


Chasing Cars

by burningupasun



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alone Divergence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-03-05 06:53:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 129,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3110222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burningupasun/pseuds/burningupasun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl ran after the car that took Beth for over a day, but he didn't stop. He didn't give in. He caught up, and he saved her, and he made them pay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this happened. It's a canon divergence from "Alone", where Daryl actually catches up to the car that caught Beth and, well, you'll see. It is _not_ a one-shot, it is going to be a chapter fic. Enjoy!

_Failed her, failed her, failed her._

Daryl’s feet beat out the rhythm of those accusatory words as they pounded over the pavement for mile after mile. The sun had risen again and begun to set since he’d failed her, and he was still running, running, never stopping, chasing after her, because there was no way in hell he was gonna stop.

He’d already failed her once. He’d already let her get taken, let her get dragged into that fucking car somehow, watched it drive off with her inside. There had been no way he was gonna let them take her even further from him. So he’d done the only thing he could do: he’d run.

Daryl had been running for so long now that he didn’t even feel the pain in his feet anymore. He didn’t feel winded, didn’t feel exhausted, didn’t feel hungry. He felt like all the times he’d been building up his endurance, all the times he’d gotten used to going without food, without sleep, had all led to this. He knew technically it had been to help him survive, but what was the point of surviving without her? There wasn’t one.

There was no point in living without the one bright, shining being that he’d only just begun to realize made it all worth it. Because that was what Beth Greene was. The flicker of a match in the endless darkness, sparking, blooming to push away the night that seemed to close in tighter with each day. He refused to let that flame get blown out, get taken from him, not when he’d just begun to not only accept but _enjoy_ the way it shown so warm on his skin and his shriveled, disused heart. 

So he ran, and even when he came to a crossing in the road he didn’t stop. He spun, gasping for breath and barely noticing, refusing to give in to the urge to fall to his ground and give up ‘cause he couldn’t give up, not on her, not ever.

 _Wouldn’t kill you to have a little faith_. 

He chose left, and if someone had been there to ask him why he wouldn’t have been able to answer. Maybe it was the same gut instinct that guided him towards a doe in the forest, or helped him lead the way to an abandoned cabin that was just safe enough for the night. Or maybe it was something else. Maybe it was faith. Maybe instead, some dim rusty part of him could see feel the pull of that flickering flame.

Or maybe it was just luck; because it sure as shit seemed like luck when twenty minutes later he came to a sudden stop at the sight of that damn car pulled over on the side of the road up ahead. Black car, white cross on the back, right there in front of him. He didn’t have to wonder what had gotten in their way, because the small pile of dead walkers on the road was all the answer he needed. They must have taken them out quietly, because Daryl sure as hell would have heard some gunshots otherwise. 

As if suddenly realizing he was in their line of sight, he crouched down low, partially to keep out of view but also just to catch his breath for a moment and study them. Two men, one bending down to drag a walker corpse away from the car and the other standing by the open back door to look inside. No, not just men, _cops_. He recognized uniforms like that from a mile away; after all he’d spent a good part of his adulthood avoiding them with his brother. For a second he wondered if they hadn’t taken Beth just to try and save her from the walkers in the funeral home. Despite his instincts still clamoring about that too-perfect place being a trap, they were _cops_ , after all. Maybe they’d seen her in trouble and swooped in to save her, maybe she’d been knocked out and hadn’t been able to tell them to go back for him...

Then he heard them speak.

Sound carried out in the middle of nowhere, even more these days when there were no people around, no cars on the roads, nothing else making a sound except the wind and the wildlife. Their conversation echoed across the pavement and what he heard made his jaw clench.

“She’s a sweet piece, this one. Best we’ve caught in one of our traps in ages.”  
“Did you see the way she killed that walker, right before we hit her? Bet she’s a feisty one, too.”  
“Well don’t get too excited, O’Donnell. This feisty one is gonna be mine, I’m already laying claim.”  
“Shit, Gorman, come on now...”

Rage boiled over inside of him not just at their words, but at the way the dark haired one- _Gorman_ , the one who was trying to claim _Beth_ \- was leaning over and staring into the back of the seat, where he could only assume Beth was laying. He had to assume she wasn’t conscious, not just cause they’d mentioned hitting her, but because he knew Beth. She’d be clawing at them right now, all spitfire and rage for talking to her like that.

Their words were bad enough, but seeing that piece of shit lean in and run his hands over what he could only assume was Beth in the back seat, well, that was the last straw. He rose up with a growl, stumbling forward on exhausted legs, too driven to lay down and give up, now when it came to her. He shuffled towards them intently, his crossbow hanging heavy from his hand as he slowly but surely closed the distance between them.

Gorman looked up and seemed to sigh as he said, “Got another dead one coming,” before his attention shifted to the back seat again.

He figured it must have been the way he was walking, shambling down the street like something dead. They couldn’t have known that the only death he carried was for them, that his shambling was the gait of a man who had run an entire day and wouldn’t stop until he’d brought them down. 

The cop in the back by the walkers- _O’Donnell_ , his mind whispered, not that he needed to know the name of the man to kill him- reached for the gun at his waist, but Daryl didn’t plan on giving them a chance to put him down, let alone to figure out he was still kicking. At least not until it was too late for them. He should have been too exhausted to even lift his bow, but with her name echoing through his mind and pulsing in his veins and vibrating through his bones ( _Beth, Beth, Beth, Beth_ ), a fire fueled him that couldn’t be denied. In a swift movement Daryl raised his crossbow, sighted on the taller cop, and shot him right through the eye.

It was only when his partner fell dead to the ground that Gorman looked up again from where he was leering at Beth’s prone body in the backseat. God, but the idiot was slow to move, and it only made Daryl more angry, knowing that this slow fucker had gotten the jump on him, had gotten _Beth_. Then again, the way he slowly glanced behind him at the fallen body of his comrade only gave Daryl the time he needed to get close. By the time the cop turned sharply in the other direction, Daryl was just a foot away, fury burning in his eyes.

“Ain’t no walker,” he growled out as he grasped the man’s shirt in both hands and slammed him to the side of the car. “And she ain’t yours. She ain’t never gonna be yours, and you’re gonna regret ever even thinkin’ you could touch somethin’ as good as her, you piece of fucking shit.”

In the minutes that followed, everything was just red and black rage pulsing to the beat of his head, the feeling of bones cracking beneath his fists as he punched and punched until he couldn’t tell if the blood on his hands belonged to the cop, or to him. The only thing that could have pulled him out of it was a threat to Beth, and in the end it was a shuffle and a groan from off to his left that broke through the cloud of rage and caught his attention. He looked up from where Gorman lay on the pavement beneath him with his face a bloodied mess, and saw a walker shuffling forward, heading right for the open car door and the brown cowboy boots sticking out of the back seat. 

_Beth_.

Daryl clutched his knife in one bloodied hand, rose to his feet, and stabbed it right through the walker’s eye. It’s body was still falling to the ground as he spun around and dropped to his knees by the prone body of the cop. His knife hovered over the man’s barely recognizable face as he leaned in nice and close and breathed out, “Got anything else to say?” 

He should have known that you couldn’t beat idiocy out of a man. After all, his father had never managed to beat it out of him, had he? And he certainly hadn’t beated it out of the asshole on the ground below him, who took his last breath to gasp, “Only a matter of time... someone’s gonna... give your little piece what she... really needs.” 

A cloud of red rage pulsed in his mind and he growled low in his throat as he pressed the tip of his blade to the man’s neck, but he held it back to breathe out, “She ain’t mine. She ain’t anyone’s but her own. But I’m hers, and that’s where you fucked up. Cause I’ll die before I let anyone touch her again.” With that, he slid the knife across the man’s throat and rose to his feet. He didn’t deserve a mercy blow to the head. He deserved to bleed out here on this hot Georgia road, until he turned. He deserved to spend eternity in hell, but since Daryl couldn’t manage that, hell on earth would have to suffice for now.

Every bone and muscle in his body screamed as he rose to his feet, but he only allowed himself a second to stand there in the middle of the road. It wasn’t time to give in yet. He _couldn’t_ give in yet, because Beth needed him still. So Daryl forced his weary bones to move, forced himself to shuffle to the back of the car and finally peer inside.

She was laying on her side across the back seat, and _fuck_ , if he hadn’t already killed both the men who had taken her, he would have done it all over again for what he saw in front of him. There was a cut right across her cheek, still bleeding, a bruise across her shoulder that disappeared under the collar of her shirt, and a matching one purpling the skin of her wrists where it hung over the edge of the seat to dangle down. He didn’t have to look any closer at that wrist to realize there was something wrong with it, something out of place. At the very least it had been sprained and at the worse, fractured or broken. 

Anger surged hot as a wildfire in his body again and the only thing stopping him from laying back into the now-dead body of that sonofabitch cop was the sight of her sprawled unconscious in front of him, _needing_ him. She was a fighter, she could save herself any other time, but right now she needed him to protect her and keep her safe, and he wasn’t gonna fail her again.

He only considered the car for a second. Sure he was tired, sure he could take the keys and drive them somewhere far away, somewhere safe. But cops like this, cops who had cars and traps and talked about claiming girls; they weren’t alone. They had friends at the least, but there was a good chance they even had some sort of organization or group. Either way it meant people who might come after them if they didn’t communicate, which meant that taking the car risked running into the friends of the same men who had run down an innocent girl and talked of making her their own like she was a possession. Like she was a thing to be owned and used.

In the end it was a risk and the last thing he was going to do ever again was take risks when it came to _her_ life. 

So despite his aching bones Daryl did the only thing that seemed logical, the only thing that seemed right. He leaned down and scooped her gently into his arms to pull her from the back of the car.

Daryl tried not to think about how just over a day ago he had been holding her like this only she had been conscious then. He tried not to remember how she had been laughing in his arms and holding him back as he carried her into the kitchen. He tried not to think of flickering candlelight and big blue eyes and her soft, breathless, _oh_...

(He though he didn’t deserve to think about things like that, not right now. Maybe not ever anymore.)

But the weight of her in his arms now gave him unexpected strength as he held her close, as he stepped over the lifeless bodies of the cops he’d killed to save her, and returned at last to the woods. Here at least, he felt right. Here he could keep her safe, or at least safer than out there on the roads where the dredges of humanity stalked and preyed in ways that were somehow worse than those of the shambling dead.

In the woods everything seemed clearer. The rage faded away, leaving behind only concern for the limp girl in his arms. Her flame wasn’t out, he _had her_ , but he felt like that light was guttering with the way she lay in his arms, still, unmoving. “ _Beth_ ,” he whispered, instinctively shifting a hand to cradle her head close to his chest as he strode as silently as he could through the forest. “C’mon, girl...”

He didn’t know what was the right thing to say. It was like a goddamn curse of his when it came to her. In the face of Beth and her knowing blue eyes, he was always rendered speechless. It wasn’t the chosen silence that he’d perfected over years and years of keeping people at a distance, keeping everything private, never revealing any of his hidden truths. It was the kind of silence of wanting to speak but being unable to find the words. Looking at her would fill him up with thoughts and emotions he’d never had to deal with before, and so maybe it wasn’t surprising that he didn’t have the words to express them. 

But he wanted to, and that was the frustrating part. He wanted to be able to do more than just stare at her in flickering candlelight until she breathed out a soft ‘oh’ that told him she’d somehow understood even without words. He wanted her to understand _with_ his words, like he wanted to be able to find the words to say now, the right words to pull her out of whatever darkness she might be in and bring her back to him.

Daryl walked for what felt like a mile or two, carrying her heavy in his arms, straining his exhausted mind to find the right words like she was locked away inside her injured body and if he spoke the words she needed it’d be the key to open up whatever was holding her back.

His body gave out before it seemed like he could find the words. Deep in the woods, Daryl pressed his back to the trunk of a tree and sank slowly to the ground, conscious the whole time of the precious burden in his arms. Worth more than anything he’d ever held in his unworthy hands in his entire life. 

To his dismay, his inability to find the right thing to say to her just felt like another failure that she didn’t deserve, and it was his determined refusal to fail her again that forced him to finally speak.

He didn’t know if the words were the right ones, but they were all he had.

“I yelled at you once, for the way you relied on other people to keep you safe. It was an asshole thing to say, but you should know by now that I’m an asshole. Especially when I’m drunk. Never did apologize, though, an’ I should’ve.” He frowned. “Thing is, I didn’t grow up thinkin’ you shouldn’t rely on anyone. I learned it, cause I had to, from the day I was born. From my Ma, and Pa. But I learned it hardest from Merle, or at least... it was learnin’ it with Merle that finally made it stick.” 

Daryl drew his knees up and adjusted her in his arms, letting her head rest against his chest so her hair spilled down over his shoulder. Looking at her like this he could see that cut across her cheek, dark red with blood, a color he’d been familiar with from far too young an age. “Must’ve been about 12 or so. Maybe 13. Merle was out of Juvi, but he wasn’t ever home. He’d run off by that point, but sometimes he’d call to check in, you know, from a payphone cause ain’t nobody had cell phones back then, least, not broke rednecks like us. 

His mouth was dry when he swallowed, but Daryl forced himself to keep on talking, his voice low and hoarse in the quiet of the woods. “One time he called, and Dad had been on a bender for somethin’ like four days. Beat me every night until my back was raw. Could barely walk. Couldn’t even sleep, cause it hurt so bad. Then Merle called. He was goin’ on and on about some tail he’d gotten, some chick he had waitin’ back in his room, and I was just standin’ there, usin’ everythin’ I had not to cry, cause men don’t cry but _Dixons_ don’t even know the meanin’ of the damn word.” 

Without thinking about it, his hand brushed lightly over the her head, stroking her hair gently as he took a deep breath. “Took me five minutes to get a word in and when I finally did, I... I asked him to come home. Begged really, by our standards. Dixons ain’t supposed to beg, neither, but I did. Told him I needed him here, told him Pa was in a bad place, and he...” Daryl shook his head, hearing the echoes of Merle in his head. “He laughed. He laughed and said ‘sure, little brother’. Told me he’d be there when he could manage it. Only he never showed up. Not for months anyway, and by that point I’d already decided that was it. I wasn’t ever gonna need anyone again, except myself. I’d convinced myself I was the only person I needed.”

The sigh he exhaled was heavy with the weight of what felt like his entire past, every blow to his back, every curse from his father’s lips, every laugh that Merle had tossed at him before riding off on his bike to leave him behind. He looked down at her again, his eyes tracing over the curve of her jaw, the flutter of her lashes against her cheek, the scar that marred her perfect skin. “I was wrong.” The words fell from his lips in a near whisper, rough and hoarse, half from exhaustion but mostly because it felt easier that way. “You showed me better. Made me realize I don’t wanna be alone. I don’t wanna be the last man standing, Greene, cause that’d mean I’d be standing there by myself. Without you. And I don’t want that.” 

His fingers cupped the back of her head as the other braced against her hip to hold her close, and his voice was a barely audible whisper as he breathed out for the first time since he’d pleaded the words through the phone line to his brother, “ _I need you._ ” 

Even though he’d poured the words out of him, he hadn’t expected it to work. Daryl didn’t have the confidence to believe he’d somehow managed to stumble on the right thing to say. But time and time again, Beth Greene seemed determined to prove him wrong. 

First she groaned, faint but audible, enough to have worry and concern furrowing his brow as he looked down at her. “Beth?” 

Whatever fog she was in, it seemed to be pulling back. He could only guess at what was going on in her mind as she came out of it, what she might have been remembering when her body suddenly tensed and she cried out in a low, panicked voice, “ _Daryl_!”

“Shhh, shhh, I’m right here.” He smoothed his hand down her side instinctively, the other turning her head, willing her to open her eyes and look up at him. “Beth, I’m right here. I’ve got you.” 

When her eyes fluttered open, that deep endless blue was the best thing he’d ever seen, and he fixed on it, afraid that if he looked away she might disappear again, just fade away before her eyes and he’d wake up to find out this was just a dream and she was gone again, gone for good.

Her voice was soft and as hoarse as his as she breathed out in confusion, “Daryl?”

“Yeah. S’me. I’m here. I’ve got you.” He couldn’t seem to stop repeating that, like if he said the words again and again it would make them _always_ be true. ( _I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I’ve got you._ ) It would mean that he’d always have her right here, that he wouldn’t fail her again, wouldn’t _lose_ her again. 

Her eyes went wide and the words came spilling out of her in a panicked rush, “I... I... I did what you said, I swear!” The pain and worry that creased her face was like a punch to his gut, cause it made him realize that somehow she thought _she’d_ done something wrong. “I was waiting for you, and there were walkers... they were coming, and I killed one, I stabbed it and then... and then... I don’t remember.” Her voice broke on the word and she looked so scared staring up at him that he had to fight down a sudden fierce urge to storm back to that road and pound those fuckers even more into the ground, not only for daring to touch her, but for simply daring to _frighten_ this girl who had already gone through so damn much and stayed so strong in the face of it all. 

“It was a trap,” he said roughly, “Whole damn place was a trap. Too good t’ be true. They set them walkers on us, and when you were alone, they hit you with their car and took you away. Wasn’t your fault, Beth. You did good.” His shoulder slumped with the weight of his shame as he breathed out all low and raggedly, “S’my fault. Should’ve stayed with you, should’ve been there. Never should’ve let them get near you.” 

“ _Daryl_.” Somehow she managed to put as much weight into his name as she had that ‘oh’, back in the kitchen, what seemed like years ago somehow now even though it was only a day or two. He felt her words coming like the rising tide, and with them the knowledge that his own would vanish, that yet again he would open his mouth and have nothing to say to her even when he wanted to tell her everything inside of him,

But he was saved, if it could be considered saving anyway, by the sudden pained noise she made as she reached for him with her injured hand. “Don’t,” he said instantly, shifting his hand to gently cup her arm, suddenly aware that she was still curled in his lap. He had no intention of moving her, though. He had no intention of letting her be any further away from him than this, at the moment, unless she wanted to be of course.

Beth didn’t pull away. If anything she only curled closer as she blinked up at him with those big blue eyes, bright with confusion and pain as she bit down on her lip and breathed out shakily, “It _hurts_. My side hurts, too, and my ankle...” 

“Must’ve hit you pretty good with their car. Think your wrist might be broken, and your side’s probably bruised too...” It hit him again, the image of it, the thought of those assholes driving their car right into her, _hitting_ her, hurting her. A growl built up all low in his throat and rumbled through his chest until he unexpectedly felt her uninjured hand come to rest on his chest. 

“It’s okay. I’m gonna be okay, Daryl.” 

He blinked, and to his surprise he very nearly smiled. Because it was so her, wasn’t it? To focus on comforting him, reassuring him, when she was the one laying injured in his lap, she was the one with a cut on her cheek and a broken wrist and a bruised body. He should have been comforting _her_ , not the other way around, but it wasn’t the first time she’d turned something like this onto it’s head. Just like that day back in the prison, when he’d come all full of honor and guilt to tell her about Zach, and she’d flipped it all around and asked _him_ if he was okay.

“You’ll be okay,” he murmured, focusing on her wrist as he gently brushed his fingers over it and tried to find the fracture. “I’ll make damn sure of it.” 

She was quiet for a long time, her eyes squeezed shut as his fingers felt out her injury. It had to have hurt, but she never once cried out or even whimpered in pain. She was so much stronger than anyone gave her credit for, and he could have kicked himself for how long it had taken him to see it. 

“Daryl?” His name on her lips pulled him from his thoughts and had him grunting a question back at her as he tugged his bag close and rummaged through it with one hand, still listening as she went on, “What happened after? If they got me, how did we end up here?” 

It seemed for a few minutes like he wasn’t going to answer, but the truth was he was just looking for the words again. He took his time, pulling a spare shirt from his bag and settled it on beside him before reaching out, searching the ground and pulling over a long stick that was thankfully nearby and looked to be the right size. As he reached his arms around her (he had no intention of moving her, after all) and used his knife to cut it down to size, he furrowed his brow in thought and finally replied, “Went after you.” 

Simple and technically accurate, but probably not everything she’d wanted. Beth didn’t push though. She never did unless he was being a complete asshole who really, truly needed a swift kick where it hurt. She didn’t push, but her silence and the warmth of her eyes on his as she studied his face seemed to help pull the words out of him as he cut off the long sleeve of the shirt and began carefully slicing it into four long strips as best he could with his knife. “Ran after you, after the car. Don’t know how long.” 

He squinted briefly up at the sky and then shrugged as he set the blade down. “More than a day. Almost gave up, but... I couldn’t. _Wouldn’t_.” He shook his head and focused on her injured wrist. First he wrapped it gently in the other part of his shirt to keep her skin from getting irritated by the stick, which he then lay on top of it as a brace. As he began to wrap the thin strips of fabric around her arm to form a makeshift splint, he finally finished, “Found the car on the side of the road, finally. Must’ve stopped to take out some walkers.” 

Everything that had happened was far more complex and yet in his mind, it was simple. He had failed. He had run. He had found her. He had saved her. That was it. That was the core of it, anyway. It was what mattered. “I got you out, and I brought you here, and now you’re safe.” Daryl’s hand stilled on her wrist as he looked down into her eyes, his voice gruff but low and firm as he repeated, “You’re _safe_.”

He didn’t realize his hand was still covered in blood until Beth hesitantly reached out with her free hand and brushed her fingers lightly over the back of his, the pads of them coming up red as she breathed out, “Daryl...”

Maybe she didn’t want to know, or maybe she already knew. He had a feeling it was the latter. Beth was smart. She knew him better than most anyone in their group did, these days. She could read him sometimes like her eyes were scanning the pages of an open book. She was doing it right now, peering into his eyes, and though he dreaded a glimpse of judgment in her gaze for even a second, he found that there was none there. If anything, all he saw was pride, acceptance, gratefulness... He wasn’t sure if any of that was better, it certainly made him feel awkward and unsure, even a bit embarrassed. 

He ducked his eyes but only for a moment, only to tuck in the end of the last strip of fabric, and then he was looking up at her again and breathing out lowly, “Don’t matter anymore. You’re _safe_. S’all that matters, now.” 

At least, she was safe for now, and he was going to do his damnedest to make sure it stayed that way, because if there was one thing that Daryl Dixon could dedicate his life to now and for once not fuck up, it was gonna be keeping her safe. Keeping her alive. Keeping her right there, with him. 

The rest of it, right down to the way she was looking at him now , all lit up by the sun high in the sky and shining down on them through the trees, adding it’s own light to the radiance in her eyes, well... That was beyond him to handle, at least at the moment, exhausted as he was. If he thought about it too much, he would lose focus, and he’d be damned if losing focus led to losing her again.

He wasn’t gonna be the last man standing all alone. Not anymore. Now, he was gonna be the man fighting to keep her standing right at his side, or he was gonna die trying.

“C’mon,” he said roughly, sliding his knife into his sheath and pushing himself to his feet with her still cradled in his arms. “Gonna get dark, soon. Gotta find a place to stay.” 

She was quiet, but he didn’t mind. He was content just to hold her close and have her cheek pressed to his chest as he carried her to whatever safety he could find them for the night. 

For now, he just had to stay focused on that. Anything else could wait, at least until tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl wakes up from a very bad dream.

_No matter how hard and fast he ran, he couldn’t catch her. His lungs were burning, his heart pounding, his feet screaming out in pain. He came to a crossroads and spun in circles, frantic and desperate, searching for any sign of where she’d been taken only to find nothing, nothing, nothing. He slumped to the ground, bow clattering to the pavement, his weary aching bones throbbing as they gave in on each other and dropped him to his knees. She was gone, gone, gone, gone..._

_He had lost her._

_Daryl had never deigned to believe that Beth belonged to him. She was too good, not just for him but maybe even for this shitty, fucked up world. But he had come to not only enjoy her company, but crave it. Without realizing it he had begun to thrive on the hope she was so imbued with that it overflowed and spilled out from within her. He’d come to see that she was everything good left in this world, and that he would do anything he could to keep her in it. Alive and smiling and hopeful. No, he hadn’t dared to think that she was his in any way, but he had come to understand that he would willingly be hers. That he would do anything to keep her safe, to keep that light shining in this brutal dark world they lived in now._

_Except he’d failed. He’d lost her, and now she was at the mercy of a man who wanted far more than just to bask in her light. She was lost to the hands of a man who wanted to defile that light, to maybe even snuff it right out. Daryl’s head lifted slowly and peered up ahead through the fog that surrounded him. The car appeared through the haze and the man was there, stalking around it like a wolf circled it’s prey. From the open car door Daryl saw Beth’s feet move, saw her begin to struggle within and cry out for help. But he couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but watch from the spot on the ground where he’d given up, the spot where he’d _failed_ her. He watched Gorman reach in and run his hand up over her thigh with a growl that was half-wolf, half-walker. A beast in human form, stalking the streets of a world that had become his hunting ground._

_His gaze was riveted to the scene before him as he was rendered physically incapable of looking away. He watch as the man’s head turned towards him. He was missing an eye, and blood dripped down his rugged face, his lips curving into a smile as he groaned out in a monster’s rough voice, “Sweet piece, such a sweet piece, gonna enjoy making her mine, mine, mine...”_

_His failure had him trapped, wrapping around him like skeleton arms to hold him in place as he struggled and fought to free himself, forced to watch as Gorman reached into the car and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly no matter how hard she struggled. For one moment their eyes met and he saw the fear and panic in Beth’s big blue eyes as blood from the mouth of the monster man dripped from his lips to smear across her pale cheek and all Daryl could do was open his mouth and scream..._

“Beth!” He sat up with a gasp, hands reaching and grasping into the darkness; he had to save her, he had to get her, he had to rescue her! “ _Beth_!” 

And suddenly, there she was. The darkness in front of him was replaced by her sweet face and her wide eyes. For a few seconds it seemed like she was glowing and radiating light, and then he realized it was the light from the moon above, shining onto her through the crowns of the trees above. “Shhh,” she whispered, reaching out without hesitation to gently curl her fingers around his forearm. “Daryl I’m here, I’m right here...” 

_Here, here, here_. Still half in a dream he reached for her, fingers curling lightly around her arm, hand brushing up and down as he tried to reassure himself that she was right there in front of him, that she wasn’t in the grasp of some monster of a man. “Here?” His exhausted voice cracked on the word.

“Here,” she said again, softly. He was dimly aware of her shifting closer to him, allowing his other hand to come up and find her side. Had her been fully conscious he never would have dared, knowing he had no right, but he was still half in his dream and he needed to be sure she was real. “I’m right here. It was just a nightmare, Daryl.” Her hand rested over his where he had cupped her hip and she pressed her fingers against his. “See? Real.” 

Daryl drew in a deep shuddering breath as he stared up at her from under the dark, lanky fringe of his hair. Blue eyes staring back at him; warm, wholesome, worried. _Real._ The warmth of her hand where it rested over his. _Real_. The soft glow of the moon over her pale blonde hair. _Real, real, real._

As reality began to conquer the lingering darkness of his nightmare, Daryl slowly but surely became aware of where they were. He’d carried her in his arms through the woods until his exhausted body had begun to give out at last again. Even with his legs going weak and making him sway, he’d been determined to keep going; so intensely focused on finding her a safe place that he had pushed away all concern for himself.

It had been Beth who had insisted on them stopping in the end, almost climbing out of his arms until he’d come to a halt. He wasn’t even sure he remembered setting up the camp, yet he could clearly see the cans from his bag strung around them on string. Had he done it, or had she? His memory was so spotty. He remembered setting her down on her feet, watching her favor her ankle as she moved. He dimly remembered offering him his bag and supplies, since her own were lost now. 

As he sat there watching her shift closer, he remembered the way she’d guided him back to a tree, her hands fluttering around him like little birds as she gently nudged him until he was sitting down against the tree. His legs had practically given out beneath him and he’d known there was no way he could get up again, and yet he also remembered groping for his crossbow where it had fallen beside him.

“No,” she’d murmured, reaching for it and settling into her own arms instead as she’dsat beside him, gingerly settling her splinted wrist into her lap. “I’ve got it. I’ll take watch, Daryl. You need to rest.” 

He dimly recalled protesting, insisting something about keeping her safe, only to have her brush the words away in that no-nonsense tone of hers that somehow managed to be brisk and caring at the same time. 

“Daryl Dixon, you ran a whole day to catch me,” she’d murmured, even as his head had tipped back against the tree. “You deserve to at least get some sleep.” 

Except he hadn’t really slept. He’d closed his eyes and just drifted into nightmares fueled by the ache in his body and the lingering panic of failing her or losing her, and he couldn’t imagine he’d managed to sleep very long at all. Every inch of him still felt exhausted. What fitful sleep he had managed had clearly done nothing for him. Daryl groaned, not realizing his fingers were curling against Beth where he held onto her, as if some part of him was desperate to have her closer. 

“Okay.” Her voice was so soft that it took him a moment to realize she was talking. By the time he managed to focus, she was moving to sit beside him against the tree, pulling a faint groan from his lips when her movements made his hands fall away. “You need to sleep,” she murmured as she sat down next to him. “But I’m not gonna let you have anymore nightmares, okay? So you sleep right here.” 

The way she gestured at her lap had him furrowing his brow in tired confusion, until she went on, “Put your head right here. Use me as a pillow, Daryl.” She spoke so gently and softly and sweetly that he found himself moving without even thinking about. If he’d been less exhausted he would have grunted at her or protested, but he didn’t have it in him to protest right now. Not when he was weary to his core, not when his mind was still full of the image of blood dripping down her face as she was clutched in the arms of a monster. 

“There you go,” Beth murmured as she helped guide him to lay on his back and rest his head in her warm, soft lap. “Just like that. I’ll keep watch and you sleep, okay?” When he felt her hand gently pat his shoulder, instinct had him reaching for it to tug it over his chest and curl his larger hand around it as he reminded himself again: _Here. Real. Safe._

Above him she understood, the way he was starting to think Beth always understood. “You go to sleep, Daryl. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere. Close your eyes... And just rest...” 

There was no denying that soft voice. His eyes fluttered shut and though his fingers soon loosened faintly around hers, he didn’t let go. He drifted at the edge of sleep, the nightmare images teasing at the edge of his mind only to dissipate at the warmth of her body and the dimly registered sound of her speaking softly over him. 

“I’ll keep you safe,” she was whispering, only faintly audible. “Just like you kept me safe. You know, I used to think you’d be glad to be rid of me at first-” He grunted faintly beneath her and she gave a soft, shushing sound of comfort. “-but eventually, a part of me started to realize you never would. And I _knew_ , deep down inside, that you would always come for me, no matter what happened. And you _did_. You _came_ for me, Daryl.” Her felt her hand curl slightly so her fingers could graze his palm where he was holding her hand to his chest, and then just as sleep began to finally claim him, he heard her whisper, “You kept me safe. Now it’s my turn to do the same for you.” 

*** 

The sun was up when he woke, and he knew he must have slept for hours. Far longer than the four hour shifts they usually took with each other. He was barely thinking about that though, once he realized that his head was still pillowed in her warm lap and he was still clutching her hand to his chest. 

For a second he found himself wishing he could just pretend to still be asleep; anything to stay here like this for just a moment longer. But she was looking down into his eyes now and he heard her gently murmur, “Good morning...” 

He couldn’t pretend anymore. Couldn’t linger here, no matter if a tiny part of him wanted to. Daryl pushed up and away from her a little too quickly, his voice rough as he replied, “Shouldn’t have let me sleep so long, girl.” He regretted the short tone (and the loss of her warmth) the moment he was sitting up, but when he glance back at her with a furrowed brow, he didn’t see a hint of sadness or hurt feelings on her face. In fact she was just smiling at him, which was probably what prompted him to add gruffly, “You need your rest more’n I do.” 

“Don’t be silly. _I_ was unconscious for most of a day, you were the one running after me. You needed sleep, and you got it, and that’s that. Not like you can take it back now, right?” The way that damn smile curved up her lips had Daryl studying her face for a moment, before she shifted her hands to lift the crossbow into her lap and instantly winced in pain. “ _Ow _...”__

__“You okay?” In an instant he was on his knees beside her and reaching carefully for her wrist. Without a hint of hesitation his fingers ran over it, checking the splint he’d made to be sure it was still tight. It took him a few moments to remember to look up, and the soft expression in her eyes caught him off guard for a moment before she cleared her throat and looked down at her wrist._ _

__“I don’t know. It hurts but only when I, you know, use it.” There she was, smiling again despite the fact that she had a broken wrist and a sprained ankle and cut across her cheek. She always managed to do that; smile even when things should have been shit._ _

__Then again, were things really shit? Because he knew, now, how much worse they could be. ( _Sweet piece, my sweet piece, blood dripping onto her face._ ) He’d stopped that from happening, and he ignored the voice that whispered ‘this time’, and focused on Beth, _here_ , alive, like he remembered repeating over and over last night until it had felt real. _ _

__“Only when y’ use it, hm?” He felt the faintest little smile begin to cross his lips as he looked up at her, before he ducked his head down and focused on her wrist. “We need t’ find a place to stay. An’ some bandages or a wrist brace. Somethin’ to wrap this with better than-” He gestured down at the strips of shirt he’d wrapped around the branch on her arm._ _

__“Hey…” Beth tipped her head down until he looked up at her again. “ _This_ is pretty darn amazing for something you made out of nothing in the middle of the woods. My Daddy would’ve been proud.” _ _

__He saw her breathing hitch for a moment at the mention of her father, and without thinking he found himself gently squeezing her knee for just a moment before he cleared his throat and pulled his hand back._ _

__“So,” she said after a moment, breaking the silence, “Is that the plan for today, then? Find a safe place to stay?”_ _

__“Mm.” He adjusted one of the strips of fabric on her wrist and then stood slowly back up again. “Some place that _ain’t_ a trap, this time.”_ _

__He reached down for her, cupping his hands under her elbows and guiding her to her feet. Their eyes met and he was surprised to see a flash of guilt in her eyes as she steadied herself and said, “I’m sorry, Daryl. I didn’t know the place was a trap. I thought… you know, I thought they were just good people. I guess I was wrong…”_ _

__“Don’t.” His fingers curled harder into her arms for just a moment before he caught himself and slowly dropped his hands to his sides. But his eyes stayed fixed on hers as he said lowly, “Don’t you go blamin’ yourself. You didn’t know.” He leaned over to pick up his bag and his crossbow, and as he slung them over his shoulder Daryl added, “Could’ve been right about them being good, anyway.”_ _

__“Yeah?”_ _

__“Well.” He nodded his head and scuffed his foot on the ground. “Was about 50/50, I reckon.”_ _

__He glanced up at her and saw her nibble briefly at her lower lip before she asked, “You still believe that?”_ _

__For just a moment when he looked at her, he could see the candlelight across her face, lighting up those big blue eyes and shadowing her cheekbones as she stared across that table at him. _So you do think there are still good people. What changed your mind?_ _ _

__He drew in a slow breath and nodded. “Yeah. I do.”_ _

__‘Cause as fucked up as those assholes were who had set that trap and almost got away with Beth, she was still here with him. She was here, and she was _good_ , and though he couldn’t bring himself to admit the words out loud… she did give him hope._ _

__“C’mon,” He made sure she was steady and then slipped his arm carefully around her back to help her walk as she limped beside him. “Let’s go, Greene. And don’t think you can slack, just cause your injured.”_ _

__He was teasing of course, but he knew that _she_ knew, cause there was a playful little smile on her lips as she looked over at him. “I wouldn’t _dare_ , Mr. Dixon. I’ll keep my eyes peeled, I promise.” _ _

__They only made it a half minute more in silence before her voice was bubbling around them again, “Why do you think they say that? Keep your _eyes peeled_ , I mean, doesn’t that sounds gross?” _ _

__A month or so ago he would have snapped at her for being so damn chatty, but now, after the nightmare he’d had and the memory of almost losing her, he was pretty sure he’d never heard much better than the sound of Beth babbling away at his side, seemingly taking his grunts and hums as a whole half of a conversation as they made their way slowly but surely through the woods._ _

__Hearing her voice was just another reminder that she was here, with him. Alive. So no, he didn’t mind at all._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one (well for me), but I really wanted to post something for this, since I know I've been slower at it than I am with She's Breathing. Next chapter will be a little more involved/have actual things happening, but I thought the scenes in this one were nice and sweet and I was in the mood for that today.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl and Beth find safety for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updating this! I will try to update a little more frequently after this.

It was half a day before they came on something that looked like it could be suitable shelter. Daryl had let his instincts guide them as he always did, trusting them to keep both him and Beth (most importantly Beth) safe. He hadn’t said much all morning but that was never a problem for Beth. She filled the silence when she felt the need to, telling him little stories or letting her thoughts ramble, while other times she was just contentedly quiet next to him.

He didn’t prefer either over the other really, although there were times when he wanted her to talk, because in silence he could hear her hitching breath as she swallowed what he was sure were pained sounds caused by her ankle or her wrist or the bruises over her body. Each little cut-off breath was just a reminder of the ways he’d failed by letting her get hurt this badly. Even knowing she didn’t blame him didn’t help at all; she was crazy about things like that, after all, crazy (in his mind anyway) for almost never blaming people for the trouble they caused. 

Daryl’s gut had led them to a small cabin in the woods. From the outside he could tell it was probably abandoned; there was a hole in the roof where part of it had sagged in from a fallen tree, and one of the windows was smashed. Then again, it looked like most places did these days, so there was no telling whether it was safe or not and Daryl wasn’t taking any chances with Beth beside him. He’d spent the last year and a half trying to keep people safe, but none of that came close to how determined he was to keep _Beth_ safe. He’d almost lost her once. He wasn’t gonna risk her again.

“You stay behind me,” he grunted as they approached the run-down cabin, Daryl in the lead with his crossbow loaded and ready in his hands. 

“I’m not helpless, you know.” Beth narrowed her eyes as she looked at him, clutching her knife in her uninjured hand. There was such a contrast in her, in that moment. The sight of her injuries and the scar across her face made guilt and worry swirl in the pit of his stomach and yet there was a light in her eyes, a fierceness that made him believe she could do anything she set her mind to, including this.

It was that fierceness that had him saying, “I know. I need you to have _my_ back, okay Beth?” He hesitated a moment, and then added in a low voice, “I ain’t askin’ you to stay behind, am I?” He wasn’t. He’d considered it, but he couldn’t do that to her, not again. It was telling her to run off without him that had almost made him lose her in the first place. 

Besides, Daryl wasn’t lying. He did need her to have his back, and he trusted her to have it, too, even injured as she was. She’d come a long way from the person she’d been on the farm, though Daryl had no doubt she had been strong in her own way even then. Now she had new ways to use that strength, skills that he’d taught her, or Rick had, or ones she’d picked up herself. Beth must have heard that honesty in his voice because after a moment she relaxed and though that fierceness was still there in her eyes he saw a hint of pride and pleasure at his trust, too. It was almost distracting, or it would have been if he hadn’t been so focused on making sure she was safe. 

Being cautious, they circled the entire cabin first, checking for signs of people or walkers or anything else. His gaze scanned the ground for signs of footprints, or skimmed the windows and back porch for empty cans or the marks of fortification. Only when he made sure there were no signs on the outside that this place was occupied did Daryl make his way slowly up the stairs with Beth right behind him. It was a constant inner struggle between wanting to keep Beth safe behind him, and trusting her the way she needed (and deserved) to be trusted. He hesitated a moment as he reached the porch of the small cabin, and then nodded his bow towards the left (unbroken) window.

He didn’t have to say a word. The two of them had been a team for over a month now and they knew how to read each other’s signs. Holding her knife at the ready, Beth made her way slowly but surely towards the window to try and peer inside. He watched her for a moment, gaze lingering on her slight limp and the way she kept her injured wrist tucked against her stomach, before he pushed aside that worry and guilt and made his way to the broken window to the right of the door. 

It was dark inside; or dim, anyway, thanks to the sunlight filtering in from outside. He could see the faint shapes of furniture; a sagging couch and a broken end-table. The only movement he could see inside was the shifting of dust-motes in the sunlight that filtered through the cracked glass. And then he stepped closer, and the floorboard beneath his foot creaked and suddenly, the window wasn’t so empty anymore.

A walker lurched through the shattered glass, and he had just a moment to think that he was glad he hadn’t sent Beth to _this_ window before the walker was reaching through and gripping his shirt in it’s rotted hands. It was a man, or it had been once. Now it was a monster, snapping at him with a mouth of half-broken, half-missing teeth, a clotted bloody hole through it’s cheek that Daryl instantly recognized as a bullet hole.

 _Idiot tried to end his life and missed_. The thought fired through his mind in half a second as he struggled to prevent that same idiot from taking _his_ life, too. His crossbow got in the way, tangled up between them and making it impossible to shoot. He used it roughly to try and shove the asshole back, shifting to slam the bow up and under it’s neck, using the leverage to shove it back towards the window.

Suddenly there was a flash of movement at his side. He hadn’t even heard Beth come up beside him, but then again, he’d been a bit distracted, and now there she was. They moved in unison, anticipating and understanding each other without even realizing it. He used his bow to pin the walk back, twisting his arms to press it’s head against the window frame. No sooner had he pinned it then Beth was right there, lifting her knife and slamming the blade right into it’s head. 

As soon as she pulled it free, the walker slumped to the ground and Beth turned to look at him. _Something_ flashed between them, he felt it in that moment. Adrenaline and relief, yeah, but something else too, something he couldn’t quite name but something he’d been feeling now, day after day when he looked at her. 

“See?” She wiped the knife clean, and gave him a faint smile. “I’ve got your back.” 

_Ain’t never doubted it_ , he replied in his mind as he looked her over. Out loud of course he only gave a nod, a low ‘mm’ of response, but he knew she saw it. He knew she understood, because he could see it in her eyes too, right before he turned his attention back to the cabin.

His feeling that the walker they’d just killed was the only resident only intensified, once they got the front door open and made their way slowly inside. The cabin was small, and so the room they entered into seemed to be the main one. There was a couch and an armchair to the right by a fireplace, and in the corner he could see what looked to be the kitchen; if a single counter and an old fridge and an iron stove counted as a kitchen, anyway. It was a one-person sort of home; with just one other door leading to what he guessed was the bedroom; probably not in very good shape considering that the sagging hole in the roof had been right above it. 

Everything Daryl saw got pieced together in his mind to form a theory, a story about this place and the walker they’d put down, but he didn’t speak them out loud. Not yet. Instead he looked at Beth and asked, “What d’you think?”

He had seen her eyes flicking around, taking in things the same way he had, and he was curious to know what she’d pieced together. “Small place,” she remarked as her gaze scanned over the small and dusty furniture, “Probably only enough for one person. Maybe two, but it doesn’t look like two people lived here.” 

When her gaze shifted to the dead walker hanging out the window, he prompted her carefully, “What about him?” 

Beth nodded immediately. “He was shot, right? Through the face?” 

“Good eye.” Daryl’s expression showed just a hint of pride, but even a hint was a lot coming from him. “Looks like he shot himself but missed. Must’ve turned and been here all this time. Prob’ly his place.” 

“It’s not bad, though.” Beth turned in a slow circle, scanning the dilapidated little room. “Almost homey.”

He snorted and raised his eyebrow at that, and Beth turned to him with a flicker of a grin. “What, it is! We close that bedroom door to keep out the draft from the roof, maybe light a fire in the fireplace… it won’t be so bad at all.” 

“Always seein’ the good, ain’t you?” He said it roughly, but there was just a tiny hint of a smile lurking at the corners of his lips as he took a few steps further into the cabin. But she was right, it wasn’t so bad. There was a roof overhead that was mostly intact, furniture that wasn’t broken, a fireplace they could use to keep warm and cook… it was better than being out in the woods sleeping against a tree. Better for her, anyway, and that was what was important.

“You should sit,” he remarked, gesturing to the couch. “Rest your ankle and that wrist.” But she was shaking her head even before he was done, and of course Daryl should have known she’d protest. She didn’t like being useless, she was like him in that way. Right now she was giving him a look that would have been at home on his own face, really. A lift of an eyebrow, a challenge in her eyes as if she were daring him to make her sit down.

Resigned, but with a hint of amusement in his eyes, Daryl went on instead, “Alright. You get that bedroom door closed, an’ I’m gonna pull this walker out an’ get some wood from outside. Saw a pile, against the side when we were walkin’ around.” 

Beth nodded, picking up the train of his thoughts. “Okay, then I’ll get a fire going while you secure the place.” 

It was habitual with them, almost ritual. They moved like a team in unison as if they’d done this a hundred times before; and maybe they had. He’d lost count of the camps he’d set up with Beth now, sometimes inside and sometimes outside. He’d secure the camp or hunt for food, she’d start up the fire, sometimes help him string up the cans and string or rummage for food tucked away in cabinet if they were inside. 

Nothing changed today, although Beth might have taken a little longer to get her part done with the way she was limping back and forth across the room. That twinge of guilt returned when he watched her reach for a piece of wood with her bad hand and then wince before switching to the other. There was nothing he could do for that now except push past it, find a way to help her heal, find a way to make it up to her for the fact that he’d failed her.

Eventually they had the little cabin as secure as they could make it; the bedroom blocked off, a small fire going, cans strung up in front of both entrances and what little canned food they’d found in the cabinet set up on the table. 

“Not a… what was it you called it? A red-neck feast?” Beth smiled. “But it’s not bad.” 

She was sitting at the rickety kitchen table in the single chair, while Daryl leaned back against the counter a few feet away. From here the fire cast a dim yellow orange glow across her features, almost making it seem as if she glowed, but her words brought him back to a time when the light had been flickering instead. It seemed so long ago and yet it was only a couple days when they’d been sitting at that table in the funeral home, eating peanut butter and pigs feet while Beth scribbled out a note to the owners, neither of them knowing what was about to happen. What had been _averted_ , if barely, he reminded himself as he stood there watching her, raising a spoonful of beans to his mouth before he gave a hum of agreement. 

Dinner passed quietly like that, both of them not saying a word as they ate and chewed and swallowed, and eventually they ended up in front of the fire. The quiet lingered, but in the end Daryl was the one who closed the distance between them. Beth was curled up on the floor (the sofa had sagged so much when she’d tried to sit on it that she’d decided the floor was better), wrapped up in a blanket with her leg stretched out in front of her and her injured wrist in her lap. 

“Here,” he said roughly, crouching down in front of her and dropping some supplies he’d scavenged by his feet. “Got a sheet we can tear into strips. Can use it to bind your wrist up.” He pulled the sheet closer and grabbed his knife from it’s sheath. With Beth watching him, he dug the tip of the blade into the fabric and dragged it up, tearing a line through the fabric to help rip it into strips. Once he had a collection of them, he knelt right against Beth’s side and gently moved her wrist into his lap so he could begin to undo the makeshift brace he’d created yesterday. 

“How do you know how to do things like this?” Beth asked curiously as she watched him undo the strips of shirt fabric and gently expose her injured wrist. “I didn’t know you knew how, you always let my Daddy-” Her voice hitched for just a moment, the way it always did when she mentioned her family, before she continued, “-care for stuff like that.” 

It took him a long moment to answer, as he mentally stumbled over the right things to say. With anyone else he never would have even bothered. It wasn’t anyone’s business, nothing about him was. But with Beth, it had always been different. There was something about her and her sweet silence that made it easier to talk, easier to tell her things without fear of judgement or pity. Which was what had him eventually licking his dry lips and roughly responding, “Lot’s of practice. Had a couple breaks, when I was a kid. No insurance, and my Pa… didn’t like doctors.” 

That was an understatement, or at the least something rather vague. Plenty of people hated doctors, he reckoned, for their own reasons. His father’s hadn’t been good ones; he’d hated doctors because they would instantly know the reasons for his injuries, and report him to child services again. Doctors, hospitals, nurses, they were all forbidden in the Dixon household, and so Daryl had learned from a young age to take care of himself physically the way he did in everything else, too. He’d learned how to treat cigarette burns and lashes, how to set twisted or sprained or broken bones… on both himself and, sometimes, his mother. 

After a moment, he cleared his throat and went on, “Then later, got a lot of practice with Merle. He was always gettin’ drunk or high an’ causing some stupid fight for no reason other’n he wanted to. Can’t count how many times he ended up with somethin’ sprained or broken.”

Beside him, Beth was silent, though he could feel the weight of her eyes on him. She didn’t say a word, though, and he was grateful for that. He hadn’t expected she would, not really. Beth always seemed to know when to push and when to stay quiet. Removing the stick he had been using as a brace for her wrist revealed the red marks it had left behind on her soft skin from where the bark had irritated it. Without thinking he rubbed his thumb over the marks, letting the rough pad of it trace across her smooth skin.

The brush of his thumb over the underside of her wrist had Beth breathing in sharply, and Daryl instantly looked up at her. “You okay? That hurt?”

“No. No, it doesn’t hurt.” But she didn’t say anything else, she just sat there looking at him with those big, wide eyes as she nibbled on her lower lip, making him wonder… if it hadn’t hurt, why had she breathed in like that? He didn’t dare wonder if it had something else to do with his touch, after all, despite the fact that the look in her eyes right now was somehow similar to that night a few days ago and the flickering candlelight, and the dawning realization of her ‘oh’. 

Suddenly, looking into her eyes was almost too much for him and he had to break the gaze and look down, fixing his sight on her wrist as he gingerly moved it to to see how bad the sprain was. Even now he was gentle, stopping the moment she winced or her breath hitched. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.

“I-” She started and stopped, swallowing thickly before going on more firmly, “I’ve broken a bone before. My arm.” 

“Really?” Daryl couldn’t deny he was surprised. Then again, the things he associated broken bones with were never the things he associated with Beth. After a moment he reached over for one of the strips of sheet fabric, and began to wind it tightly around her wrist.

“Yeah, my arm. Not this one, the other one.” She paused, but just until he tipped his head up just enough to catch her gaze. It was his way of asking her to go on, and she must have gotten it, because after a second Beth’s voice shifted into that softer, slightly dreamier tone she got sometimes when she was remembering something from her past. 

“I was up in the loft of the barn, with my brother Shawn. Daddy was in town visiting someone’s sick dog, and Mama was a couple miles away at our neighbor’s house, so Maggie was in charge of watching us. We were supposed to be doing chores, but Shawn and I had slipped away into the barn to play and Shawn was in one of his daredevil moods. He was _always_ daring me to do something, you know? Daddy used to swear half the trouble I got into was because of Shawn, but then again he didn’t know that I was just as bad sometimes.” She giggled. “I mean, there was this one time- No, I’m just gonna go off on a tangent. Just believe me when I say that half the trouble Shawn got into was because of me, too.” 

For a moment he saw the sadness and pain of loss flickering across Beth’s face, and though she managed to chase it away, he instinctively shifted his hands to stroke his thumb gently over her wrist. This time he could see the shift in her at the contact, the way she breathed out and the tension eased from the lines of her body as she went on, “Anyway, that day he was daring me to jump down into a pile of hay. Kept calling me a chicken, which wasn’t working, and _then_ he said I couldn’t do it because I was just a silly, weak girl. He didn’t mean it, really. At least, I don’t think he did. He just knew that was always a good way to rile me up.” 

Daryl stayed sitting there silently beside her, continuing the slow and rhythm process of tightly wrapping her wrist as she spoke. He wanted to keep the fabric tight enough to give her support, but not enough to cut off circulation and it required just the right amount of focus. There was just something about listening to her that allowed him to find the concentration he needed, like her voice relaxed him, put him in the sort of state where everything seemed natural and easy. 

Beth’s head tipped back against the arm of the sofa and from the corner of his eye he saw her turn her head a little to watch him as she continued, “Anyway, I did it. I jumped. And like an idiot, I missed the haystack slightly and landed right on my arm. I just remember this _crack_ and this wave of pain, and all I wanted to do was cry but I kept hearing Shawn’s words ringing in my head, about how I was just a silly weak girl, and I didn’t want him to be _right_ , you know? I didn’t want him to think I was weak.” She shook her head. “Anyway, Shawn was terrified. He went off and got Maggie, and oh when she came in and found me she was _so mad_ at him. Told him to go fetch Daddy right away and then she knelt next to me on the floor. She never left me, you know. It took Shawn almost 45 mins to get into town and back with Daddy, but Maggie stayed by me the whole time, never left my side. She let me rest my head in her lap and she ran her fingers through my hair and told me all kinds of stories to distract me. About times she’d gotten hurt, or times her friends had. And at one point…”

Beth broke off for a moment with a soft laugh, right as he slowed in his movements and finished off another strip of fabric. “It hurt so bad I was dizzy with it and all I wanted to do was cry, but I couldn’t let myself. Maggie must’ve seen me trembling, biting my lip, trying so damn hard to keep from letting it out. She finally asked me, you know, why I wasn’t just letting it out. She was so _furious_ when I told her that Shawn had called me a silly girl, and I didn’t want to prove him right. I can’t remember what I said, something like how crying makes you weak and then I’d just be a weak, whiny girl, I dunno. But I remember Maggie and how she got so huffy. I remember her holding me carefully and looking down at me and telling me that _everyone_ cried. That it wasn’t just girls, and it wasn’t a sign of weakness. She said… being able to cry when you needed to, just meant that you were strong enough to admit you were upset, or something like that, I dunno.”

He could see it in his mind as he spoke; a little version of Beth, in pain but so damn brave, and her big sister looking over her the way he’d seen Maggie do so many times before. In some part of his mind, her words conjured up another image. The two of them standing in front of that shack, screaming heatedly at each other.

_I ain’t afraid of nothing!_  
 _I remember. When that little girl came out of the barn after my mom. You were like me. And now God forbid you ever let anybody get too close._

His fingers stilled on the strip of fabric for a moment as his mind filled with the memory of him, body shuddering with tears as her arms wrapped around him from behind and she pressed her small face against his back and just let him cry.

_Being able to cry just means you’re strong enough to admit you’re upset._

As he twined the last strip of fabric around her hand and wrist and tightly tied it off, he looked up to see a grin curving up her lips as she chuckled again and finished, “Anywya, then Maggie told me some story about Shawn crying over stubbing his toe or something, and said the next time he teased me about being a girl or being weak or chicken, to remind him of that.” 

“Did you?” He spoke without thinking, so caught up in the story that it seemed easy to ask her more about it.

“Didn’t need to. I never found out what she said exactly, but I guess Maggie cornered him somewhere and went off on him. Otis told me. He never teased me about being a girl again.” For one moment the memory had her radiant with amusement but as he watched, the smile on her lips slowly faded and she breathed out in a near-whisper, “I miss her. I miss all of them you know? Shawn, and Mama, and Daddy. But I miss Maggie most right now… I think because I keep thinking she could be so close and I’ve got no way of knowing, you know?” She hesitated just a moment, and then asked him, “Do you think she misses me, too?”

“Course she does.” Daryl didn’t even hesitate. “You’re her sister. Two of you, your whole family really… closer than most families I ever knew. Bet she’s lookin’ for you, too.” There had been a time when he never would have answered that question, and he figured Beth knew it. He figured she easily remembered all those times he’d brushed it off, tried to act like there was no chance their family was out there, looking for them, surviving still. She was the one who helped him believe that it was possible they could be out there somewhere alive. She was the one who had made it possible for him to give her that reassurance, when just a couple weeks ago he hadn’t believed it himself.

It was worth it to see the soft smile on Beth’s lips before she reached down to run her fingers over the makeshift cast he’d created for her. “You did a really good job, Daryl.”

“Ain’t nothin’,” he said gruffly, though he felt the slightest hint of pride at her words. It was hard to feel proud of his skills in stuff like this, considering how and why he’d earned them. He couldn’t help remembering all the times he’d bound his own wounds, or his mother’s, or later taken care of Merle after the asshole had gotten himself into another drunken brawl. The memories were all mixed up in his mind now with her soft words, and he found himself saying without thinking, “Don’t have no good memories like you do, ‘bought things like that.” He shifted to sit back and drew up his knees, keeping his gaze on the fire as his arms dangled between his legs. “Ain’t got no fond memories at all, from before this. Not really.” Nothin’ tied up in his past was good. Even the stuff with him and Merle, none of it was really pleasant. Life before this had just been… existing. Drifting. Doing whatever Merle wanted.

Beth’s gaze was a curious weight on him again, thoughtful and considering. He could see her studying him from the corner of his eyes, and it was a few moments before she replied, “But you’ve got memories from after, you know? Stories to tell. And you can still make new ones.” When his only reply was a faint grunt, Beth went on, “You do. Like, remember that time I got caught in a bear trap like an idiot, and twisted my ankle?” 

He grunted again, but looked over at her. “That ain’t so funny…”

“It is a little bit, now. I mean, a world full of walking dead and I almost get brought down by a rusty old bear trap?” She gave him a hesitant little smile, but when he just shrugged at her she went on instead, “Okay. How about that time we found a nice little cabin in the woods… a bit rundown, but not so bad. And we lit a fire and sat down in front of it with a nice warm blanket and just sort of talked for a bit and shared stories. That was nice.” 

“Ain’t really a story if it’s still happenin’, is it?”

“Of course it is.” The ease in her voice pulled his eyes back to her and now he was the one studying her. Sometimes she was so damn hopeful he thought he could _see_ it on her. Like she had some kinda damn glow or something. Like those angels on the stained glass windows in a church. He’d never been in one, but he’d seen ‘em from the outside, with the light around their heads. Sometimes when she was so hopeful and _good_ like this, it made him think about those angels, glowing and radiant. 

Except with her, it was all on the inside, and she made it sound so simple and obvious, like she did right now as she went on, “Besides… this is one of the nicest nights I’ve had in a bit. It’ll make a good memory some day, don’t you think?”

 _’Course I do._ His mental response was almost immediate. This was a good night, but every night he’d spent with her since the prison- or almost every night- had been good. But he couldn’t tell her that. He couldn’t tell her that every day he spent to her felt seared into his mind as some of the best days and nights he’d experienced in his long, rough life. He couldn’t tell her that she was so many of his good memories now, or that he felt they he kept all of them in this special little place in his mind, one that glowed with warmth, one he didn’t feel worthy of venturing into but could never seem to be able to resist.

He couldn’t say any of that, so he just nodded and grunted, but after a few moments he added simply, “It ain’t bad.” 

It was the most he could say, but judging by the smile on her lips, it was possible she knew just what he really meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the part about Maggie was the hardest to write, because Beth just loves her sister so much and hasn't realized at this point the disservice that was done to their relationship by the writers. SIGH.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being around Beth makes Daryl think all kinda of new, unfamiliar things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the delay, I'm trying my best to keep all these updated. I hope you enjoy this and that it isn't too weird! It's very introspective. The next chapter will be more on-the-move again.

When they were outside in the open it was safer to burn a fire during the day when the flickering light of it wouldn’t attract as much notice. On the days they had found shelter, Daryl preferred to light the fire at night; when the coverings over the windows would hide the light and the smoke going up the chimney would be nearly invisible against the dark sky. Walkers couldn’t spot smoke, as far as he knew anyway, they weren’t drawn to it like they were to the bright flicker of flame. But people could, and it was people that Daryl was worried about.

It was people- _bad_ people- that lingered on his mind as he looked down at the girl tucked up beside him. She had talked for a little while longer last night but eventually her exhaustion seemed to have caught up to her. He was almost surprised it had taken so long; she had stayed up all night for him on watch and then followed him through the woods with a twisted ankle and a broken wrist and hadn’t once protested. But then maybe it wasn’t so surprising. Beth had kept up with him every day since the prison, he had long since learned that she was stronger than most people expected. 

He wasn’t worried about her being unable to keep up, even injured as she was. What he was worried about was that other people might catch up to them, somehow. People like those men in that cop car, hitting and kidnapping a young girl to bring them back to some unknown location for… well. He might not know where, but he had a pretty good idea about what men like that might do to a girl like her. He knew the ways in which they’d want to hurt her, use her, damage her, break her. 

The fire was glowing on her skin as he watched her and the thought entered his mind that she looked almost like an angel right now. Her pale blonde hair seemed gold in the flickering firelight and her skin was like cream or maybe porcelain, flushed faintly pink from the warmth. But his gaze fell on the bruise that purpled her cheek and the healing wound left behind from the car that had struck her, and he felt a stirring of anger and guilt in his stomach. If she was an angel, then she was one that had been marked.

Daryl had never been one for church. No one in the Dixon family was. But he’d had a neighbor when he was younger, an old lady with a collection of crosses on her wall and a stack of bibles on every table, or so it seemed. He’d never have gone over there except she always had cookies or a sandwich to spare and the insistent demands of his empty stomach overcame his dislike of her religious tendencies. When he was hungry, he could put up with all that talk of sin and damnation; he reckoned anyone could. She liked to tell stories sometimes, especially about angels. It had been from her that he’d heard once about how sometimes angels could fall from heaven, banished for their sins.

Rationally he knew that didn’t apply to Beth. She was the furthest thing from a sinner, he knew. But men like the ones he’d killed to save her, they were sinners through and through. Sinners who had marked her, sinners who had tried to drag down an angel and tear away her wings only to be stopped at the last minute. By him. Daryl didn’t know what that made him, because he was pretty sure he was closer to a sinner than an angel himself. Hell, he didn’t even know why his thoughts were so stuck on things he didn’t believe in; except he was exhausted and the golden light shining across her soft face was filling his head with all sorts of strange thoughts.

He wasn’t much for metaphors and romantic notions, let along for things like heaven and hell and sinners and angels. But he did know one thing. He knew he’d do anything to help her keep that goodness, that _hope_. He’d do anything to stop men like that from hurting her any further, or this world from trying to tear off her wings. He was worthy of that, he knew he was, even if he still didn’t quite believe that he could be worthy of closeness with her. 

Beth didn’t seem to believe the same when it came to their closeness. She had fallen asleep right beside him and as he watched, her head drifted so that her cheek rested warmly on his shoulder. He couldn’t seem to help drinking in the sight of her all glowing in the firelight, so peaceful in sleep now. He would keep her safe. He would.

Maybe his gaze on her was too heavy or maybe Beth was perceptive even in her sleep, because after a moment he felt her shift and her eyes fluttered open to look up at him. He had a few seconds to be mesmerized by the still-peaceful expression in her sleepy eyes before she murmured, “S’my turn to watch?” 

Daryl shook his head. “No. Your turn to sleep still, Beth. Go back t’ sleep, s’ok.” 

“Okay…” But her eyes didn’t close. They stayed settled on him, studying even through her sleepy haze for a long moment, and when she finally blinked Daryl felt her shift a little closer to him. What he did next was all instinct. At the press of her body closer to his, Daryl lifted his arm and gently settled it over her shoulder. As soon as the weight of his arm was resting across her delicate shoulders he felt like some kind of idiot and he instantly and instinctively braced for the negative response. He braced for Beth looking up at him all bewildered and confused, maybe even annoyed. He braced for her to recoil like what he’d done disgusted her, because in that moment he thought only of his own self-doubts and somehow forgot the sight of her above him last night, holding his head so gently in her lap while she slept. 

But she didn’t pull away. If anything he was pretty sure he saw a faint hint of a smile on her lips as she tucked herself closer, rested her head against his chest, and hesitantly let her arm follow. As her hand came to settle gently on his chest, Daryl felt himself exhale in a slow sigh that was matched by Beth’s own. “Don’t forget to wake me up,” she murmured as her eyes fluttered shut. “I… mean it. You need sleep… too.” 

“I won’t,” he murmured back. His fingers lightly splayed against her shoulder, and if his thumb brushed back and forth once or twice, well, it was just settling, right? Either way, he meant it. He’d wake her up.

Although he might let her get an extra hour or two, before he did. She deserved it, after all.

*** 

If Beth noticed that he’d let her sleep an hour longer than normal, she didn’t say anything when he’d woken her up. She’d shifted out from under his arm, and despite his worry that she’d pull away now, she’d just patted her own shoulder and given him a gentle smile as she’d said, “Your turn.”

And that was how he’d slept; with his head on Beth Greene’s shoulder and the warmth of her body a reminder even in sleep that she was alive. When he woke up three hours later the sun was just coming up over the horizon; or in their case, just beginning to peek through the trees. Right on time, really. He almost always woke with the dawn, if he had the first shift of watch. The sun was the first thing he noticed as his eyes fluttered open and he stretched lightly. The second thing he noticed was that Beth wasn’t right beside him anymore, though she couldn’t have been gone for long because his side was still warm from where she’d be nestled up against him. 

Daryl had just enough time to sit up sharply and reach for his bow, just enough time for a hint of worry to go through him lightning-fast, and then she stepped around from the back of the couch and gave him a smile. “Hey, you’re awake. Good morning.” Her sharp eyes flicked to the crossbow held tightly in his hands, and after a moment she added carefully, “I went to get the fork, from my bag. I knew you wouldn’t want the fire going once the sun came up, so I cooked the can of beans and then-” She crossed around and knelt to the fire, gesturing, “I brought it down to the coals, to keep it warm, see?” 

He was grateful that she hadn’t mentioned his obvious instinctive worry. Beth was good like that though, she always seemed to know the right thing to say. His body relaxed back as his gaze finally drifted to the fire, where he saw the evidence that she had done just what she said. The fire was banked, just a dull red simmer in the coals that made little smoke but kept the can she’d placed near it warm. Of course they’d had plenty a cold meal and neither of them would have minded another, but it was always nice to have something warm for once.

Daryl grunted in acknowledgement but then, feeling a hint of guilt at his short response he added, “Did good. Smart. Gonna bring that can over here so we can share?” 

Soon he had her warmth back at his side as she settled against him without hesitation, cupping the warm can carefully in her hands. He made sure she got the first forkful but after that they shared, passing the utensil back and forth without much mind as they worked through their meal. “So do you think…” Beth worried her lip for a moment, dimpling it with the straight line of her teeth in a way that was mildly distracting to him before she went on, “Do you think we could stay here for a little bit? Just a few days anyway?” 

The fork in his mouth was Daryl’s excuse to take a few moments to think over the question, although the truth was he knew the answer. Still, he took the time. His gaze moved over the run-down cabin from the closed off door to the fallen-in bedroom to the meager supplies, the dust, the now-covered window where the walker had broken through. He compared it in his mind to that funeral home: clean as if waiting for someone, filled with cabinets full of neatly arranged food. That place had been the kind of place most people would look at and think was safe. It had been the kind of place he should have looked at and known wasn’t.

But he had been caught up in her laughter and the light in her eyes and that damn one-eyed dog and he’d slipped. He wouldn’t slip again, at least not when it came to keeping her safe. 

(A part of him wanted to think he could have both. The distraction of the light in her eyes and the focus on keeping her safe, too, but if it came down to it he knew which he would choose. He’d choose one that would keep her with him, in a heartbeat.) 

As he offered the can and the spoon back to her, Daryl replied lowly, “We can stay. For a few days, anyway. Give your ankle time t’ heal a bit.” His brow furrowed as he looked around again and added, “This place is alright. It ain’t a trap, that’s for sure.” 

“You really think the last place was?” She blinked up at him, worry in her eyes.

Daryl shrugged because of course he couldn’t be sure. “Maybe.” He paused, and then added, “My gut says yeah.” 

“It’s too bad,” Beth murmured softly, scooping up a spoonful of beans but pausing to add, “I think it could’ve been good, if it hadn’t been a trap.” She sighed. “You know what I wish, though?” 

He could think of a hundred things, of course. He wished she’d never been caught at all. He wished the place had been good, or that he’d figured out it was wrong before they had a chance to hurt her. He wished there weren’t men like that in this world, drawn to girls like her. 

But he wasn’t Beth, of course.

“I wish we’d managed to find that dog again, before we got taken away.” She looked up at him and shrugged one shoulder. “I just bet it’s hungry, that’s all. Hungry and lonely. No one should have to feel like that.”

No, he wasn’t Beth. But she was so very _her_ , and though it constantly amazed and amused him, he’d never want to change it.

*** 

Of course just because they were staying didn’t mean they could spend the day doing nothing at all. Once they had finished breakfast they were up and on their feet; including Beth, who insisted on having something to do even though all he wanted was for her to rest her ankle. 

“Ain’t the whole point of stayin’ here t’ give that time t’ heal?” He asked, raising an eyebrow and looking pointedly down at where she was gingerly standing on only one leg. 

“Yes. But that doesn’t make me useless!” With her hands on her hips and that stubborn jut to her chin, Daryl knew he’s just get a glare from her if he tried to protest. Still she must have seen something in the duck of his head maybe, or the brush of his hand over his hair as he scuffed his foot against the ground, because after a moment she took a careful step towards him and said in a softer voice, “Daryl, I’m not glass, okay? I don’t want you treating me like I might break.”

When he tilted his head to look up at her from under the dark fringe of his hair, he was surprised to see a plaintiveness in her eyes as she went on, “Everyone’s always treated me like glass, you know? Especially since the farm, after Mama…” She trailed off but he’d known what she meant even before she started rubbing her fingers beneath the bracelets she wore on one wrist. “But not you. You never treated me like that, and I don’t want you to start now. I’m not just some bruised girl, you know?” 

He blinked at her, and instead of her soft tone he heard angry words lashing through his mind like a whip: _I know you look at me and you just see another dead girl. I'm not Michonne. I'm not Carol. I'm not Maggie. I've survived and you don't get it 'cause I'm not like you or them. But I made it and you don't get to treat me like crap just because you're afraid._

That day and that evening, after the anger had burned out of him like the fumes of the liquor he’d consumed too much of, Daryl had promised himself that he wouldn’t keep treating her like that; like she was already dead, like she hadn’t proved again and again that she could survive. And he hadn’t, not until he’d gotten that stark reminder of just how close to death they _all_ were, including her. He had been promising himself again and again in the last two days that he wouldn’t let her get hurt, get broken, get taken away from him and now he added to that promise again. He wouldn’t let her get hurt by _him_ , either. He wouldn’t let her feel like she was just some bruised and fragile almost-dead girl. 

Of course it wasn’t really in him to apologize or say sorry, at least not with words. The best he could manage was a low hum and a scrub of his hand over the back of his neck before he offered, “Need more cans and string t’ hang up around here. An’ then maybe we can set up some traps for rabbits.” 

Her only reply out loud anyway was a soft and simple, “Okay.” 

It was his way of saying ‘sorry’, and her way of saying ‘thank you’ and they both knew it. He could see it in her simple smile and the way the tension and worry eased from her face as she came closer to him and reached for the empty can that was leftover from their breakfast. “I think I saw some fishing line, in one of the drawers. I’ll rig up some more cans and then help you with the rabbit snares.” A little smile tugged at her lips as she added, “You might have to remind me how to set them, though.” 

He shrugged. “Reckon you’ll remember,” Daryl drawled as he leaned down and picked up his crossbow so he could head out and do a walk around their temporary refuge. “Y’ got a good memory for things like that.” Just as his previous words had been an apology, this was a compliment and one Beth seemed to take easily. A part of him thought that he could get used to this complimenting thing, if it was gonna earn him smiles like that from her. 

That was a silly notion too, one he shrugged off as he headed towards the door and opened it, leaving her safely behind him. But while he made his rounds of the cabin, checking for signs of walkers that might have gotten close in the night, some part of his thoughts remained inside with Beth and that soft, sweet little smile. 

*** 

It didn’t take him long to check the perimeter, and then to hang up the new string of cans Beth had made across the steps that lead to the porch. With the help of his arm around her back, he got her out and into the woods that surrounded the little cabin. It was a spot he had chosen for rather particular reasons, but instead of telling her that Daryl nodded to the ground instead and asked, “Why here, y’think?” 

It took her a second to catch on, a second of her blinking those big damn eyes up at him until her lips parted in a surprised, “Oh, right!” He bit back a soft chuckle as she looked down at the ground and began to study it. Despite the fact that he had been training her for a couple weeks now, it was still fascinating to him to see how her expression changed. She always looked so focused, so purposeful when she set her attention to tracking. Sure she smiled plenty and even joked, but he knew that despite that she was genuinely trying.

He appreciated it, probably more than she knew. Hunting and tracking was something incredibly serious to him, one of the few things in his life he’d not only enjoyed but known he was good at. He’d never in his life taught anyone else to do it, until Beth. Though he’d never have agreed to teach her if he didn’t think she had it in her, he couldn’t help thinking that she’d proven to be the best choice he could ever have made for his first and only student. 

She proved that all over again now as she surveyed the ground for a long moment before replying brightly, “Rabbit tracks! Right?” At his slow ‘go on’ nod, Beth pointed to a few tracks on the ground, leading towards the roots of a large tree. “And there’s a hole there, at the roots of the tree, maybe that’s an, ummm….” She trailed off, and the way her nose wrinkled up in thought almost had a smile on his lips. He ducked his head to hide it, but it was faintly there as she went on, “Oh I forgot the word, I’m sorry!”

“Warren,” he remarked with another nod. “S’alright. You did real good, seeing the tracks an’ where they led. Now let’s see if y’ remember how to set up a rabbit snare.” 

It turned out she could, at least with some help, which Daryl didn’t at all mind providing even if it was a bit distracting. Each time her hands brushed his as he showed her how to properly loop the line they were using for the snare, he felt this odd warm sensation going through him. It had to be just him, of course. But then he’d look up at her and see this hint of a flush on her cheeks… and for a second he would wonder, before of course he shoved the thoughts away without even allowing them to further form.

Still, he was pretty sure it had never been like this before. He tried to think back to when he’d showed her this the first time, tried to remember if he had been so damn aware of how soft her skin was when their hands touched. (He was pretty sure he hadn’t, but he couldn’t help wondering how _was_ her skin always so damn soft? He couldn’t even remember the last time they’d bathed in something that wasn’t a stream or a river… not, of course, that he needed to think about either of them bathing.) 

Despite his attempts to keep his thoughts to himself, his focus on what he was feeling (and why) had his brow furrowing faintly as they worked. His hands never faltered, but his distraction must have been clear somehow.

“Hey,” Beth murmured, nudging his arm with hers as they finished tying off the trap. “Remember that time we made a rabbit snare in the woods, trying to catch us something for dinner?” 

Just like that his pensive mood was broken and a hint of a smile tugged briefly at the corners of his lips. “You tryin’ that tellin’ a story while it’s happenin’ thing, again?” 

“Well,” Beth’s hand slid past his again as she followed his guidance and tightened the knot on the snare. Her voice was prim but there was a smile hovering around her lips as she teased back, “It’s gonna make a pretty good story, I can already tell.” 

Despite the shake of his head and the little snort he gave, the truth was Daryl kinda agreed. The truth was he liked the reminder; that he might not have a childhood full of stories the way she did, but he had weeks of them with her now. 

So when she quietly and carefully asked, “You don’t mind me talking like that, do you?” 

He said easily, “Nah. Maybe you’re right. Besides… don’t mind your stories, past or present.” And of course, since that was edging pretty close to nice for his comfort, he added after a moment, “Even if y’ do babble a lot sometimes.” 

“Hey!” This time she nudged him a little more firmly and he looked up to catch the sight of her laughing, mesmerized for a second by the light in her eyes and the flush of her cheeks-- and then he saw movement, just past her. In an instant he was reaching out, one hand curling around her arm and the other raising a finger to his lips to ask her for silence which she thankfully gave instantly.

Once her wide-eyed gaze was on him he stretched his arm out and pointed to where a small brown rabbit had appeared from the warren, head raised and nose sniffing the air. Silently (another thing he was proud of) Beth gestured to the snare between them, but Daryl shook his head. Moving as slowly and carefully as he could, he slipped his crossbow off his back and into his hands, but only for a moment. Because without thinking, without hesitating, he found himself offering it up to her instead.

She’d used it before, of course. Tracking through the woods, firing at a few practice targets and once or twice a walker, but never like this. Never when it came down to something as important as food.

The thing was, he didn’t have a single doubt that she could do it. He knew she could and that confidence was in his eyes as he slowly handed her his bow. Maybe that was why she only seemed to question him for a moment all wide, doubtful eyes before a hint of pride entered her gaze and she reached out to take the bow from him. 

“Nice and quiet,” Daryl whispered, barely audible except to Beth who was just inches away from him. He edged even closer as she lifted the crossbow slowly into her arms and settled it there, crooking her arm to rest most of the weight on her uninjured arm before peering down it at the rabbit. “Find your shot,” he murmured right by her ear, instinctively letting one hand come to rest on her back. “Breathe in and out, good an’ steady… then take the shot on the exhale, when you feel it…” 

He could hear her drawing in and exhaling slowly, just as he could feel her back rising and falling beneath his hand. He was so focused on the rise and fall of her breath that he barely realized he was breathing to the same rhythm, that they were both focusing on the rabbit, both thinking almost at the same time: _not yet… not yet… not yet…. **now**_.

His fingers twitched right when she fired, as if he were releasing the bolt too and his breath caught in anticipation as it cut through the air right for it’s target. Both of them inhaled sharply, both of them hesitated-- and then exhaled in a rush as the bolt slammed right home in the rabbit’s side, right at the heart-lung spot. 

Daryl turned when she did, looking right at her, their eyes meeting in excitement and what suddenly felt like a rush of something entirely new and unexpected; heat and electricity, firing between them as their gazes held. 

“I did it!” Her voice was all breathy as if with anticipation or as if maybe, just maybe, she was feeling the same unexpected rush that he had.

“Yeah you did.” It was all he could say, just like all he could do was stare at her, looking right into those blue eyes, searching them as if he might find an explanation in them for why he was feeling like this. After a moment, Daryl realized he still had his hand resting on her back and that he could feel it rising and falling with her shorter, sharper breaths just as he could feel the warmth of her beneath his palm. 

Anticipation weighted the air, but for what? What was he anticipating? Why did he feel something like he had that other night looking into her eyes, hearing her ask him to explain what it was that had changed his mind and made him believe there would good people in the world? There had been a moment there, too, a few seconds of anticipation, a wonderance of ‘what next’ before the moment had been broken by the clattering of cans.

The moment wasn’t being broken by anything right now. Beth was leaning in towards him, and he realized suddenly that he was leaning in towards her, too. Like she were pulling him in with her own gravity some how; it wouldn’t surprise him, how long now had he felt like she was the sun and he was in orbit, wanting to soak up those rays but too full of self-doubt and loathing to do so? 

Slowly his eyes dropped, fixing on her lips as they parted gently, hearing her exhale in that soft and breathy voice, “ _Daryl_...”

His name had no damn right, sounding so good. 

_He_ had no damn right, thinking she looked so good right now, leaning towards him like she wanted him to…what?

And then it hit him. _Shit_. Like she wanted him to kiss her. 

The thought flashed through his mind in a jolt, just as quickly as the one on it’s heels which was rapidly shoved away before he could allow himself to even consider it.

( _I want to kiss her, too._ )

He couldn’t do that so instead he panicked. He had a feeling he’d regret it later, but in the moment there seemed to be no other option. (There was. But it wasn’t a real option because he couldn’t, no matter how badly he wanted it, there was no way she wanted it too, even if she was leaning into him like that and looking so soft and sweet, even if Merle’s voice was echoing in his mind: _Go for it, baby brother, she wants it, she’s aching for it._ ) 

Maybe it was Merle’s voice that caused him to panic or maybe it was his own, full of self-doubt. Either way, he reacted. He pulled back almost sharply, with only a quick squeeze of her shoulder and a rough, “Y’ did good, kid.” 

( _Kid? Aw hell, Darylina, whatchu go and do that for? We both know damn well you ain’t seein’ her as nothin’ like a kid right now._ ) 

Biting back the urge to growl at a brother who wasn’t even there except in his head, Daryl rose sharply to his feet. “C’mon. Let’s bring this back before somethin’ smells the blood.” 

He didn’t look at her, just kept his focus on the rabbit at his feet as he pulled the bolt from it’s side. So of course he didn’t see the look of disappointment in her eyes as she caught herself and rose slowly to her feet. 

Maybe it was better that way. 

But if it was, then why did he feel so… bereft? Why did he feel like something was suddenly wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! And feel free to let me know what kinda things you might wanna see Daryl and Beth do in this situation, if they'd never gotten separated.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl has to deal with the aftermath of screwing things up with Beth who, in her attempt to ignore how hurt she is, has set her mind on a goal that might not turn out well in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I was supposed to work on another fic today but I woke up with this VERY LOUD in my head and just had to get it down. Enjoy the emotional rollercoaster and consider it a make-up for taking so long usually to update this fic!

Daryl had seriously fucked up. He was aware of that much, anyway. He might not have been smart enough to _stop_ himself from fucking up, but he was sure smart enough to figure out when he’d already done it. He was also clever enough to pinpoint the exact moment he’d fucked up, even without the help of Merle; though the Merle in his head took particular pleasure in pointing it out, anyway.

_“Y’ did good, kid.”_

That was it, right there. The moment he’d ‘screwed the pooch’ as Merle had once liked to say. _Kid_. What the fuck had he been thinking? 

The truth was he knew exactly what he’d been thinking, and it was that she’d looked nothing like a kid right then, leaning towards him with those soft pink lips parted and a flush to her cheeks. She’d looked like a woman, and one who wanted to kiss _him_ , and the truth was he’d been, well… 

Once, he’d shouted at her that he wasn’t scared of nothin’, and those words still rang in his mind despite knowing they weren’t true. He was scared of things, sure enough. He was scared of losing the people he’d actually come to care for. He was scared of losing _Beth_. And that damn fear was all tied up in a fear of fucking things up with her, but the irony was that in the process of trying _not_ to screw things up he’d gone and done it anyway.

The mood between them had been different ever since them. Quiet, was the best way to describe it. They’d been staying in the hunter’s cabin for two days now, and it had just been… quiet. Or rather, Beth had been quiet, which was especially noticeable considering how rarely she got like that. It wasn’t like she ignored him completely; he reckoned she was too nice for that and besides, it wasn’t like he’d been a complete ass like that one time drunk on moonshine. She still slept next to him every night, but her head no longer fell to his shoulder and though a part of him ached for it, she never made that little movement that invited him to put his arm around her. She spoke when needed, but he couldn’t help noticing the absence of her stories and the way she’d sometimes hum to herself as they worked.

He also didn’t fail to notice that he missed things like that, which really only compounded the guilt he was feeling over putting this wedge or gulf or whatever it was between them. 

It didn’t do any good for his self doubts. Two days of calling himself an idiot and listening to Merle’s voice in his head doing the same. Two days of trying to figure out how to bridge that gap, two days of wishing he just fucking knew how to make a damn apology. Two days of coming up with plans only to discard them as being as idiotic as his original remark had been. 

On the third day, Beth suggested they leave the cabin. He’d woken up to her packing up their bag with purpose and determination, and it wasn’t like he was gonna say no to her, even if a part of him wanted to stay right there where she was at least safe. Because even if that safety came with what felt like a slowly growing chasm between them, it was still safety. It was still a place where he could protect her, a place where she could let her ankle and wrist continue to heal. 

But he wasn’t gonna say no, so he followed. He let her lead the way because it was the least he could do and because frankly, he was still feeling like a goddamn idiot. Following after her slightly-limping frame as she kept ahead of him, only looking back occasionally and never saying much, Daryl called himself an idiot over and over again.

Although midway through the day when he focused a little less on her silence and a little more on their surroundings, he did feel the need to point out, “Headin’ towards those railway tracks again.” 

She looked over her shoulder at him and shrugged her shoulder in a way that was so similar to his own gestures that he might have smiled, if it wasn’t so unlike _her_ to be curt in that way. Instead, he just grunted. If she wanted to head towards the tracks, then why not. They’d avoided them ever since those first days after the prison when they’d stumbled upon all those blood-stained bodies and he, like an idiot yet again, had just stood there watching that hopeful girl fall to pieces sobbing over not just the bodies of the children in front of her but, he figured, the idea that everyone they cared for might be just like this now. 

Avoiding the train-tracks had been intentional on his part, a way of steering her from future pain… or maybe steering both of them. Because maybe a part of him had known that the tracks might lead them to their family, but not in the way they wanted. Because he didn’t think either of them could bear rounding the corner and finding Michonne or Rick or Glenn or Beth’s sister, torn up bloody and lying across the tracks. 

But now Beth was heading right towards them and if it hadn’t been intentional before (she was good at tracking, but she didn’t have the same sense of direction as him yet) it was intentional now. She was striding purposefully in the direction she’d set and Daryl found himself wondering why it was she was suddenly so damn focused on getting to them. 

( _You know why, baby brother. Y’ pushed her away like a goddamn idiot and now your girl is tryin’ to find better company. Tired of hangin’ around your idiot ass, I reckon. Ain’t surprisin’, is it?_ ) 

He shoved Merle’s voice away as hard as he could, but damn it if the thoughts didn’t linger. Because it made sense, didn’t it? Beth had never given up on their family, or him, but he’d sort of given up on her in a way. Or at least, he’d betrayed her trust in him by treating her the way he damn well knew she didn’t want to be treated.

_Kid._

Fucking ridiculous how one goddamn word could fuck things up so bad. 

The thought had him frowning even deeper. He had slowed without realizing it until he saw movement and glanced up to catch sight of Beth looking over her shoulder at him. _Now’s your chance. Open your mouth, say somethin’, y’ damned idiot._ But he didn’t. He just looked at her slightly gape-mouthed, shook his head, and moved to catch up. He didn’t know what to say. He never fucking did and now, he was just gonna have to live with it.

*** 

Beth strode through the woods with single-minded purpose, the way she always did when she set her mind to things. She had no idea what Daryl was thinking about behind her, but then, that man was a goddamn mystery to her most days. Which wasn’t so bad, except when he did something that sent her reeling, like the other day. 

_“Y’ did good, kid.”_

_Kid_. Like she was 12 or something, like she was _Carl_. It would have been bad enough regardless, but to have it come in the moment it had… Even now three days later Beth kept churning it over in her mind. That moment after she’d hit the rabbit and everything had been all… _electric_. Like there was actual electricity crackling through her veins as she’d looked into Daryl’s eyes and sensed their breathing at the same rhythm, sensed both of them leaning in closer as their eyes met and heat flashed between them, like that night in the funeral home only even more intense and then…

_“Y’ did good, kid.”_ Like a splash of cold water right over her. Ever since then, nothing had felt right. Beth knew she was putting distance between them, but it was the other thing she could think to do. Because being called a ‘kid’ by him in that moment hurt, but she knew it could hurt even more if she allowed herself to feel those things for him any longer. If she allowed herself to think about what she felt, allowed them to deepen, only to have him push her away again.

She wasn’t gonna let herself fall for a man who thought of her as a goddamn kid. Even if it was Daryl; even if it was the one person who trusted her as much as she trusted him, the one person who seemed to believe in her. Or had, anyway. 

It was probably no surprise she’d woken up that morning with Maggie in her mind. Upset and unable to stop churning over that moment in her mind, Beth had longed for comfort, for familiarity… for the sister she’d once curled up with to gossip about boys or gone to for advice about anything. She missed her home, she missed her family, she missed being able to do something about that longing. 

She couldn’t go home, she couldn’t see her Mama or her Daddy or her big brother Shawn… but there was Maggie. Somewhere out there in this mess of a forest full of shambling walkers, was her sister. And Beth knew it. So she’d set out with that single-minded focus to find her, hoping her gut would guide her the way Daryl’s seemed to guide him, and when he told her she was heading towards the railway tracks, Beth knew in an instant that it had.

Of course she had no way of knowing what Daryl was thinking, but if she had she’d have corrected him in a heartbeat, regardless of whether she was upset with him. She wasn’t trying to replace him. She wasn’t trying to find people who were better company than him because the truth was in the end, Beth would never change who she’d ended up with after the prison. She just longed for her sister, for someone who understood her (or had, before all this anyway). She just needed her family. 

(She didn’t want to admit to herself that the person she really wanted to talk to, the person she really needed, was Daryl. Because what were you supposed to do when the person you needed was the person you were hurt by or angry at?) 

It was the afternoon by the time they reached the train tracks and Beth didn’t hesitate to steer them right alongside them, despite the looks from Daryl at her side. She just curled her fingers tighter around the strap of her bag and strode forward purposefully. She didn’t think about the looks he was giving her, or the expression on his face like he maybe felt hurt and guilty all at the same time. She definitely didn’t think about the way he kept opening and closing his mouth like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words.

(Because there was a part of her that ached to help him. A part of her that knew he needed that help, a part that knew, logically, that he was bad at getting across what he was feeling. The problem was that was too close to her knowledge that it was that same issue of his that was probably all tied up in him calling her ‘kid’ the other day. It still stung too much for Beth to be open to considering that maybe he hadn’t fully meant it.) 

It was late afternoon when she saw the sign up ahead. Dimly she was aware of the map hung on it, a series of criss-crossing lines with a star in the center, pinned to the wooden frame. But that wasn’t what she really saw. What leapt out of her, bright red and urgent, was one word at first: _Maggie_.

Beth’s heart leaped right into her throat and her feet moved to follow. Ignoring everything around her, she moved towards the sign at a jog and then a race, her heart pounding to the rhythm of her feet as that word leaped out at her again and again: _Maggie, Maggie, Maggie_. Her sister was alive, her sister was close, her sister, her sister, her sister…

It wasn’t until she got a few feet away that the other words registered. Trains were a thing of the past, but standing there on those railroad tracks Beth felt like she’d been hit by one head-on as those words slammed into her mind:

_Glenn, go to Terminus. -Maggie._

Glenn.

Glenn, go to Terminus. 

_Maggie_.

Her fingers clenched and unclenched at her sides and there was a roaring in her ears and she couldn’t stop searching the sign, couldn’t stop looking for the addition that should have been there, couldn’t stop trying to find the four letters of her own name.

But it wasn’t there. There was no plea to her to follow, no hope that she might see this sign and come for her sister. 

And then, she understood why. She _got it_. Maggie hadn’t written any signs for her; she’d written them for her husband and him alone. Because of course Maggie knew that Glenn would get out. Of course she knew he’d survive and come after her and find her.

But Beth? Beth was just another fragile girl slitting her wrists because she missed her Mama. Beth was porcelain, Beth was breakable, Beth was just another dead girl.

Beth was just a goddamn _kid_. 

She only dimly registered Daryl coming up beside her, and his low and rough murmuring of her name failed to truly cut through the haze in her mind, through the buzz in her ears and the seeming-throb of those words in her head.

_Glenn, go to Terminus. -Maggie._

Beth drew in a breath so ragged it caught in her throat, and through the haze she realized her eyes were burning and stinging. She was on the brink of crying, like a baby, like a…

Like a _kid_. 

With a whimper she barely even heard, Beth spun sharply away from the sign. Her shoulder banged into Daryl’s side but she didn’t feel it or the jolt to her injured wrist that followed. She barely even saw him. Through the blur in her eyes she stared only at the woods beyond and tried to find that single-minded focus again as she strode determinedly into them. 

*** 

Daryl followed after her into the woods, unaware that there was a desperation in his voice as he called out low and urgently, “ _Beth_. Beth!” 

But she kept on pushing forward, shoving aside anything that got away and fuck if he couldn’t blame her. He was furious, himself. He’d seen the words on that damn sign as she’d been running towards them and ever since they’d first registered the anger had been buzzing in his veins. 

Maggie _Fucking_ Greene.

How could she have a sister as good as Beth, and not even care? How could she give up so damn easily on a sister who had never once given up on her? Beth had mentioned her sister almost every day since they’d escaped the prison. He’d heard so many stories about Maggie, he’d listened more than once to Beth’s confidence that her sister was out there, looking for her.

Fuck, he’d reassured her himself, back at that damn cabin. 

_Do you think she misses me?  
Course she does. You’re her sister._

He hadn’t even hesitated then and now he was furious, because of course Maggie had to go and prove him wrong. Or maybe in a way she’d just proved the old him right. Wasn’t no point in having faith in people because people were shit, right? People gave up on you, people left you behind, people didn’t care.

But that wasn’t true, was it? Not entirely. Because Beth cared. Beth had never once given up on her sister _or_ on him, even after he’d screamed at her that day, throwing his words like knives at every tender spot on her he’d ever noticed and filed away: _Never relied on anyone for protection before. Never sung out in front of a big group out in public like everything was fun. Like everything was a big game. I sure as hell never cut my wrists looking for attention._

Even after that she hadn’t given up on him, just like she’d never stopped believing that their family was out there somewhere, alive and looking for her and him the way she was looking for them.

Well she was right about the first part anyway. They were alive, or they had been. But like him, apparently, Maggie Greene was a fucking idiot. Only she wasn’t here to have to live with the mess she’d made. Daryl was.

Somehow, Daryl Dixon was all Beth had, and despite knowing in some dark part of him that she deserved far better, he remembered his promise back at the cabin when she’d been lit like an angel by that golden light. He’d promised to protect her. He’d promised not to let her be hurt.

_Time to man up, baby brother. Time to put on your big boy britches and get shit done._.

“ _Beth_.” This time he said her name forcefully, closing the gap between them in one big stride and reaching to curl his fingers around her arm to turn her towards him.

“Don’t!” She spun on him, hair wild around her face and eyes so damn wide and bright, almost shimmering with what he knew after a moment had to be tears. “Don’t! I’m fine, okay? I’m _fine_ , Daryl.”

“No, y’ ain’t.” The words came roughly out of him, catching in his throat before he forced them free only to falter, not sure what else to say. His eyes roved over her, taking in the tightness of her lips and the pain in her eyes and fuck, he just wished he knew what the hell to _say_. 

She reminded him of that day he’d thrown his barbs at her, the day he’d dragged her outside and shouted at her, calling her… what had it been? _Dumb college bitch._

Yeah, she looked like that now, except there was more pain than anger in her eyes as she lashed out, “I ain’t gonna cry, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m fine, okay? I ain’t gonna break down and cry like some- like some-” She dragged in a hitching breath and spat out at him, “Like some damn _kid_.”

There it was. His own words hurled back at him, sinking into him like they must have sunk right into her, sharp as a knife. It hurt like hell, but in the process it must’ve cut something loose inside him, sliced through one of the many walls he kept up and wrapped around him. Because without thinking he growled back, “You ain’t a kid, Beth. You _ain’t_.” He took a step towards her and stopped, his voice softer as he added, “And I never should have called you that, just ‘cause I was scared.” 

There was something else in those big wide eyes as she looked up at him now, something like amazement or confusion, maybe, mixed in with the hurt and the anger. And as he watched Beth trembled, like something was coming undone inside of her, too. When her lips finally parted, all she breathed out was a broken and pained whisper, “ _Maggie_...” 

“I know.” He took a step towards her, and then another, even as she turned her back to him as if to run away. But she didn’t run, not this time. She stood there with her back to him and her whole body trembling, and he did the only thing he could think of. He came up behind her just like she had to him once, and his arms slipped around her waist as he leaned down and pressed his forehead to her back. “I know,” he whispered. “Just let it out. It’s okay, Beth. I…” He swallowed hard, but with one last shudder of the girl in his arms, Daryl forced himself to finish, “I got you.”

And he did. He held her tightly as she let go in his arms, trembling and shaking between sobs just like he had when she’d finally broken down some of his walls and got him to let it out. Now she was the one breaking down and he was the one holding her up, anchoring her just like she had for him all those weeks ago. And as he stood there in the middle of the woods with Beth Greene so damn small and trembling in his arms, her hands hanging in front of her and her back pressed to his broad chest, her own words from just a few nights ago echoed in his mind.

So as she drew in another ragged breath in between sobs, Daryl turned his head so his lips were near to her ear and he whispered her words right back to her: “Being able to cry just means you’re strong enough t’ admit you’re upset. Remember? You’re strong, Beth, you are. An’ if your sister don’t know it, then she’s an idiot. But I know it, and _you_ know it. Don’t you go forgettin’ that. You’re strong, Beth. So you cry, if you need to. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

And he wouldn’t. He didn’t. He held her back against him and let her cry it out until her sobs turned to whimpers and the whimpers just faded to little ragged breaths that nonetheless tugged at something inside of him, something aching, something all tied up in his urge to keep her safe and never let her get hurt again. 

“C’mon,” he murmured, simple and easy once she was calm. “Sun is gonna set, soon. Should find somethin’ for the night.” 

She turned without pulling away, and though he warred with himself Daryl didn’t draw his arms back. He left them around her for just a moment, his hands shifting to rest on her hips as she looked up at him and whispered, “Thanks.”

“Don’t have t’ thank me, girl.” Awkward and unsure, his hands began to slip away slowly but reluctantly, as if he thought he should let go but didn’t quite want to. “Meant everythin’ I said. You ain’t a kid, an’ I never should’ve called you one.” 

She looked for a moment like there was something right on the tip of her tongue that she wanted to ask, only she bit it back at the last moment and just gave him a tremulous little hint of a smile. Nothing much, but so much better for the ache in his heart at how she’d looked all teary-eyed and red-face. And when she stood up straighter with her injured wrist tucked close to her stomach and said firmly, “So we gotta find shelter, right?” He felt a stirring of pride at the determination and strength in his voice.

Beth was strong. She was stronger than anyone else he knew and the evidence was there right now as she drew herself up from the depths of a broken heart and focused on the task at hand. 

There wasn’t anyone else he’d want to have at his side and now, as far as he was concerned, the others could go screw themselves. _Especially_ Maggie Greene.

But he wasn’t gonna say that to Beth, not now anyway. Not when it was all so fresh and fragile for her still. He just gave her a nod and with a hand on her back, guided them both deeper into the woods towards the direction where his gut said they might find shelter for the night. 

Daryl was still worried for her, without a doubt… but there was no denying he felt a hint of relief when he realized that she was right by his side and he couldn’t feel that yawning chasm of distance between them anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Did you cry? I cried writing it a bit.)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leaving the railroad tracks and Maggie's sign behind, Daryl and Beth try to move on both literally and figuratively.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really happy with this chapter guys, so I hope you are too. Also I hope you don't mind that part of this turned into a sort of history lesson somehow. I get a little carried away when it comes to researching things. I just wanted to try something different! You'll see. Enjoy!

The sun was just setting and painting a golden light across the tops of the trees when Beth brought him to a stop with a faint little whistle. Turning to look at her with a raise of his eyebrow, Daryl saw Beth nod and then point to the distance where he now saw a roof, breaking through the line of the trees.

“Good spottin’,” he murmured low and roughly, darting a glance over at her just in time to spot the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It wasn’t much but it was something, considering how quiet she’d been the last hour since they’d spotted that sign by the railroad tracks. They’d been heading steadily away from them again either instinctively or purposefully, Daryl didn’t know. It didn’t really matter. Right now his only goal was to get them somewhere safe and to do better for Beth than her own damn sister was. 

He figured if she wanted to head away from the tracks for now, then that was what they’d do. It wasn’t like he could blame her for it. Hell, getting away from those damn tracks sounded pretty good to him, too. 

And it had led them here to what he thought, as they broke through the woods and into an overgrown clearing, was just an old wooden building. It looked to be about two stories, the wooden boards worn with age and the roof patchy in spots where the shingles had fallen off. The entire thing was half-covered in thick green clinging vines of kudzu. Given how it tended to encompass everything whenever it took root, he was almost surprised that any of the building was exposed, but he could see at least half of it; including the chimney that stuck up from the roof. 

“Huh.” Daryl reached a hand up and wiped it across his brow to brush away the bit of sweat that dampened it as he stood at the edge of the woods with his legs firmly braced. Just another building, although a much older one than they’d encountered before.

But it was Beth again who pointed to the side of the building and said, “Look. You see that? Like a wheel…” It took him a moment but then he spotted it; a massive wooden wheel half-covered in bracken and kudzu, mounted against the side of the building.

“Water wheel,” he remarked, cocking his head and squinting his eyes as he studied the building again through fresh eyes. “Might’ve been some kinda mill, once. Would’ve been a stream here, or somethin’. Could’ve dried up or gotten diverted..”

“I wonder what kinda mill it was,” Beth mused, sounding almost curious in a way that pulled Daryl’s gaze to her again. For the first time since the railroad tracks she seemed to be perking up a bit with interest, perhaps at the chance to explore something new. It was a change from the low spirits she had sunk into and Daryl fully intended to seize on that change. 

“C’mon,” he said, pulling his crossbow off his back and taking a moment to draw it in preparation before shouldering it, just in case. “Let’s go find out.” 

She even smiled at him. It was tiny, sure, but it was still there, and even a tiny smile from Beth was something near radiant. Holding the image of that little smile in his mind, Daryl led the way forward with Beth at his side. He moved slowly, conscious still of her injured ankle and the broken wrist she held carefully to her stomach while she tightly gripped her knife in her other hand. So far he didn’t see a single worrying sign around them, though he knew that didn’t mean anything and he stayed cautious and on edge, ready for whatever they might find. Soon they reached the side of the water wheel and Daryl hummed as he crouched down beside it. 

“Still a bit of water here. More like a brook now…” He looked around at the ground, peering off into the distance before letting his gaze track back again to study the depression in the ground and the rocks that lines the bottom of it. “Must’ve been bigger, once. A stream, even a river. Enough to run this wheel an’ power the mill.” 

Beth crouched slowly beside him and it was she who reached out to touch the water, running her fingers through it before lifting her damp fingers with a soft smile. “But there’s water still. That’s always good.” 

With a nod and a faint hint of a smile at her optimism, Daryl reached into his bag and pulled out their two water bottles; figuring he might as well fill them while they had the chance. Beth took one and he the other and once the plastic was filled to the brim with water he rose slowly to his feet and brought his bow with him. “C’mon, let’s get a look inside.” 

From what he could tell there was only one entrance to the place, which in his mind was both good and bad. Good because it was easily defensible but bad because a back door might provide a quick exit when needed. Thankfully his sharp gaze had already picked out a good-sized window at the back that might work in a pinch, something he filed away in his mind to check as they approached the front door of the mill.

The old wooden door was slightly warped but still sturdy, echoing with a loud thump as Beth banged on it, hesitated, and then pulled it open and darted aside to leave Daryl to cover it. With the ease of having done this what felt like a hundred times before, they cleared the doorway and moved slowly inside. Daryl kept Beth right behind him, resisting the urge to reach back with a hand and keep her tucked safely against his back. Despite his desire to keep her safe, she had proved again and again that she could handle herself. He only had to remember the cabin they’d last cleared together to know that.

Hell, he really only had to remember an hour ago at those railroad tracks, the way she’d broken down only to bring herself back together again. She was strong and they both knew it. 

The dim light from the open door and the few windows that dotted the walls revealed a large and open space. Almost every inch of it seemed to be wood, from the natural hardwood floors to the walls and the beams holding up the upper level, to the ceiling above them. At least, from what he could see in the dim darkness. In a smooth motion Daryl slipped his flashlight free from his bag and offered it to Beth, trusting her to light the way so he could keep his hands on his bow. 

Holding it gingerly in her injured and braced wrist, she clicked the light on and began to guide it over the room to light up the interior even further. The round beam of light glided over wooden beams and barrels and crates to the glint of lanterns that hung on the wall and a pile of what looked like sacks in one far corner, before coming to settle on a large round structure in the center. Nothing moved but the dust motes flickering through the beam of light until Beth steadied it and exclaimed, “Oh! I know what this is, I think!”

Only her caution seemed to keep her from rushing towards it, judging by the way she took a step and paused, darting a look at him to make sure he was at her side before she moved slowly forward. The closer they got, the more her light illuminated the structure that dominated the large and open room. The large circular wooden base contained what looked to be a round stone set into it, above which a wooden chute stretched down from the ceiling. Daryl glanced at Beth, his eyebrows raised in question as she ran her fingers lightly over the stone with a smile.

“It’s an old Grist Mill!” When her exclamation only got that same look, Beth went on, “Like a flour mill, or a corn mill. This is where they’d grind grain into flour, see?” She pointed up to the chute, where it disappeared into the ceiling. “Up on the second floor, they’d pour the grain into a bin or something, and it would come down the chute here where the grindstone would grind it. The wheel outside must have powered the grindstone!” She turned around, her face all lit up with curiosity as she went on, “There’s probably another floor beneath us, a basement. That’s where the flour would go once it had been ground up, _and_ that’s where the big gears would be, you know, to make the grindstone turn.” 

He studied her for a moment, unaware that a little smile had quirked up at the corner of his lips. “How d’you know all this, girl?”

“Oh.” She blushed as she turned back to him with a shrug of her shoulder. “I really loved history class in school, you know? We took a field trip once to an old grist mill, it was a little bigger than this but it was still functioning.” She shrugged again, a little lift of one shoulder before she gave him a small smile. “I just like stuff like this. How they used to do things before electricity and all.” Suddenly she gave a little laugh, more a single ‘hah’ than the usual giggles he had become used to.“Guess that’s kinda funny now, since we’re almost back to that in a way. No electricity and all.”

His hum and a nod were simple but when he came up behind her he found himself briefly placing his hand on her lower back and saying softly, “Ain’t never gone on a field trip to a place like this.” He shrugged. “Never much went on field trips at all. My Pa would never sign the forms. Ma did, but then…” Daryl’s voice trailed off as he glanced down to clear his throat instead. He didn’t have to go on, though. Beth knew. She knew more about him than pretty much anyone, now. 

Just as she knew how to handle his mood right now, nudging her arm gently into his as she joked, “Well I can’t promise I’d be the best tour guide, but we can have a field trip right now, Mr. Dixon.” 

With the way she was looking up at him, a smile on her lips and the crease of pain and worry over her sister’s actions banished for the moment, there was no way he could say no even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t, not one bit. Instead he just gestured to the room with a ‘go on’ wave of his hand and a hint of a little smirk. 

To his amusement she stepped back and spread both arms, gesturing to the grindstone in the center of the room as she intoned, “And here we have the grindstone of the mill. There are actually _two_ stones positioned within the frame, one on the bottom which stays still and one on top which turns to grind the grain.” That was about as far as Beth got before she giggled, the amused little laughter spilling out of her lips and lighting up her face as she glanced up at him. Her normal voice returned as she asked, “How was my tour guide voice, good?”

“Not bad,” he murmured in reply, though the truth was he’d never really been on any kinda tour before, so he didn’t have much to judge by. It had been enough to amuse them both, though admittedly Daryl didn’t mind when she switched back to her normal voice and gestured down to the other end of the room.

“The stairs should be over here… one going down to the basement and one up to the second floor, I think.” She took a few cautious steps in that direction with him beside her. “We might have more luck upstairs but we should probably check downstairs just in case?” 

Neither of them really liked the idea of descending into the dark basement, but it wasn’t the first time they’d done something similar. Their talking and the sounds of their footsteps hadn’t conjured anything up yet, so he was hopeful that the basement would prove empty. Of course, that hopefulness didn’t diminish his caution as he lead the way slowly down the stairs that Beth had found. His crossbow was held up in front of him as Beth followed, the beam of her flashlight playing over his shoulder as he took slow and careful steps down the creaky wooden stairs. 

As soon as they reached the bottom Beth began to play the beam of the flashlight across the room, sweeping it slowly to break the gloom of the cool basement. Numerous cobwebs and spiderwebs glinted in the beam of light, strung from the stone foundation falls to the machinery that filled the room, the largest of which was a massive gear mounted beneath the ceiling. Once her flashlight had revealed not a single walker in sight, Beth slipped around him and into the room, training the beam of light onto the gear.

“See?” She trailed the flashlight away from the gear to the wall beside it and said, “The water would turn the wheel outside, which would then turn the small gear attached to this bit here, that would in turn make this big gear turn-” She played the beam up again at the massive wheel again and went on, “-and _that_ turns the grindstone on top! And then when the grain would get grinded up, it would come down the shaft here!” A turn of her hand lit up the chute that extended down from the ceiling above them, before she turned to him with a grin. “Isn’t that cool?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, s’ _cool_ , I guess.” 

“Well I think it is,” Beth said brightly, moving around until she found a pile of old sacks and reached down to pick one up. They were empty but still sturdy, despite the fact that he figured this mill had been out of use for a long, long time. “You know, if we ever really wanna survive eventually… I mean, as a group-” She faltered for a moment, pain flashing across her face in an echo of the pain he had seen back at the railroad tracks. He knew she had to remembering her sister, knew she had to be thinking of their family and how perhaps none of them even believed that she had survived. He took a step towards her, thinking he needed to say something even if he wasn’t sure what, but then she blinked a few times and the pain was shuttered as she went on in a falsely bright tone, “-we’re gonna have to relearn how to do things like this. Grinding grain and making bread, you know? Lord, I miss bread. Don’t you?” 

He figured anyone else would’ve pushed her to talk about what was clearly bothering her, but Daryl wasn’t anyone else. He was never the prying type and hell, if anyone understood not wanting to talk about things that upset you, it was him. Plus after all this time, he knew Beth. She’d talk about it when she was ready and not a moment sooner. 

“Well, good thing we got you, then,” he remarked easily, running his gaze over the large gear one more time before it strayed back to the slim figure standing a few feet away. Her face was lit up in the faint glow of the flashlight and she seemed oblivious to the cobweb now tangled in her hair. Something about her complete ease with the dirt and dust made him give a hint of a smile as he went on, “Y’know, tour guide and expert on mills and all, right?” 

It must’ve been the right thing to say, cause he was sure the smile she gave him was brighter than the beam of her flashlight before she cleared her throat and said, “Speaking of me being your tour guide, we still have a whole floor to see to. C’mon then, Mr. Dixon.” 

* * *

The third floor was just as empty as the other two and Daryl found himself breathing a sigh of relief as soon as they determined that. These days you never knew what you might find lurking inside any building and he was grateful that at least this time they hadn’t had to fight to claim shelter for the night.

“Hold on,” he said when he saw Beth about to continue her little tour. “Lemme go secure the door downstairs, an’ then you can go on.” Wanting her to know he wasn’t bored or nothing, he added after a moment in a playful tone, “ _Miss Greene_.” 

Only when he saw a hint of a smile again did he turn and make his way back downstairs to secure the front door. He was pleased to see it had a bolt on it to lock it from inside, but he still took the time to drag over an old table and prop it in front just in case. After checking to make sure the back window opened (it did) and that it could serve as an emergency escape (an easy drop of only a couple feet), he headed back upstairs to the top floor where Beth was waiting. 

“So,” Beth started right up again as soon as Daryl gave her a nod to let her know it was all secure. “See, this bin here is where they’d pour the grain in! And it’d go down the chute to the grindstone below. They probably stored the grain up here in those bins. Probably empty now.” She gestured to the wall and gave another little shrug and a soft laugh. “This floor isn’t as exciting as the other two were, sorry...”

“Ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry for,” he drawled, coming up around behind her. His hand snaked out to tug lightly on the braid that was drawn back into her ponytail, and Daryl smirked as she spun to look at him with a soft ‘hey’. Moving past her, he added, “Best tour I ever had.” 

“You said you’d never _had_ a tour before,” Beth teased right back as she followed after him, moving softly over the worn wooden floorboards. 

“Yeah well even if I’d had I reckon this’d be the best, ‘cause of you.” He wasn’t sure he’d meant to add the last, and something about it made the tips of his ears burn before he turned away and gestured to the end of the room. “Looks like the workers spent some time here,” he remarked, pointed to a small table and chairs, an ancient wood stove, and what looked to be a very old camp bed with a mattress he was sure had to be unsleepable by now. 

“Or the owner,” Beth remarked, drifting past him to run her hands over the end of the bed frame. Though she frowned as the rusty metal flaked off under her fingers, she went on easily, “A lot of times it was a community of farmers that supported a mill. You know like how… how there were all those farms around ours, back home? They’d have a whole community of ‘em that all grew wheat and grain and one mill. The miller would mill all the grain for them and take his own cut, or whatever. Lots of towns and villages had their own too, I think.”

“Didn’t see no town or village ‘round here,” Daryl remarked as he came up beside the iron stove. “Reckon it might be farm land all around here?”

“Maybe.” Beth shrugged one delicate shoulder and turned to watch him as he crouched down by the stove and tried to carefully open it. 

“Could be good. Might be a good area to stay for a little bit if we want. We can make runs to the farms for supplies.” He looked up at her for a long moment, meeting her blue eyes until he saw that sadness shift in them. Carefully he added, “But we don’t have to decide yet.” His attention turned back to the stove and he hummed. “This might still work though. Reckon we could get some wood from downstairs and give it a try, maybe have a warm meal for tonight. If you want.” 

At her nod he rose to her feet and gave a nod of his own, “Alright then. Now that your tour is over, Miss Greene, let’s get a better look at this place and see what we can find.”

* * *

By the time they returned back to the top floor of the mill, they’d rummaged up a little bit more than just wood for the fire. That had been the first and easiest find, with Daryl simply breaking apart and old wooden crate and stacking up the slats by the stairs to carry up when they returned. It had been Beth who had spotted the other crates tucked into a corner down in the basement, which seemed to be filled with stuff abandoned when the mill had closed down, or perhaps left throughout the years by whoever was maintaining the place. 

One of the finds had been several old hardcover books hidden away at the bottom of a box. Beth had pulled them out rather triumphantly, dust smeared across her cheek and a grin on her lips as she held them up. “Look at these! They’re from the 1930s, according to these dates. Maybe whoever used to own this place or handle the upkeep…” She aimed the flashlight down at them, pursed her lips, and blew the dust off the cover of the top one. From the bright yellow jacket of the book she read: “The Maltese Falcon, oh, that’s a classic!” Flipping to the covers of the other two books she went on, “The Postman Always Rings Twice... and… Red Harvest. Well I haven’t heard of that last one, but the first two are definitely classics.” 

“Classics in what?” Daryl had raised an eyebrow as he leaned against the wall and looked down at her, fighting the urge to brush the dust from her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Detective novels, you know, like noir or whatever, I can’t remember what they called them. Maggie had a boyfriend in high school once who was _obsessed_ with these…” She had started off brightly, but the moment she mentioned her sister Daryl could see her falter, the delight fading from her expression as her shoulders slumped slightly.

Crouching down beside her, Daryl had tried his best to redirect her attention. “Y’mean like those old black and white movies? Men with big hats and cigarettes and gangsters?”

Beth looked up at him with a tentative smile. “Yeah and there’s almost always a dame involved. You know, some leggy blonde or something.” 

“Kinda like you.” Yet again he spoke without thinking, and his ears might have burned once more, but it had been worth it for the smile on her lips.

“I’m _so_ not leggy,” she’d remarked as she climbed to her feet. But she was still smiling as she clutched the books to her chest and headed back to the stairs and as Daryl followed behind her his gaze drifted briefly down and he couldn’t help thinking she seemed pretty leggy to him, anyway. 

Not that he was paying too much attention to her legs, or anything.

* * *

Back upstairs they’d covered the few small windows in some of the spare sacks, and then Daryl had gotten a small fire going in the wood stove, only adding to it when he was sure the stove was still intact and wouldn’t burn the place down or anything. Their second to last can of food was set on the stove to cook, reminding Daryl they’d definitely need to go out hunting tomorrow for more. For tonight however, they were settled in nice and safe and snug. 

Or at least that was how it felt after eating, when Beth dragged the old mattress off the camp bed and over in front of the stove to sit cross-legged on it before gesturing for him to join her. With the way she lit by the faint glow from the stove, he only hesitated a moment before moving to joined her, sitting beside her with his legs crossed and his crossbow beside him. 

“I was thinking we could read a bit,” Beth murmured, holding up one of the books she’d found earlier. “I just think you’d like these, is all. Crime solving and stuff, it’s kinda cool. We could read aloud maybe?” 

His brow furrowed and he pulled his gaze away to look into the fire so he could avoid looking at her. “You don’t want me readin’ for you.”

Perplexed, she peered up at him and asked, “Why not?”

“Ain’t too good at it.” Daryl shrugged one shoulder and tried to deflect, “You’re the one with the nice voice.” That was true of course, but it was really only part of it. 

Beth didn’t seem inclined to push; she almost never did. Her voice was soft and casual as she replied, “I used to get that in school, too. My teachers always made me read longer than anyone else because I guess they liked my voice, or how I read.” 

He could see that. She had a good voice, soft and warm, almost melodic. He bet she never stumbled over words she didn’t quite know, never mispronounced shit and had the whole class laughing at her and calling her a hick. Daryl’s brow furrowed even further as he stared firmly into the flickering light of the stove and remarked lowly, “Weren’t never much good at school. Teachers never called on me.” 

Beth was quiet for a few long moments, as if she couldn’t decide what to say or perhaps whether or not to say it. It was only when he glanced over at her and raised an eyebrow that she asked hesitantly, “How far did you get, in school? What year, I mean?” 

It was another of those moments. The ones where if it had been anyone else he’d have blown them off, told them to fuck off even or just looked away without answering. But it was Beth and he’d told her so much already that it didn’t seem like much of a big deal to meet her eyes and admit lowly, “Tenth year, I guess. But barely. Dropped out when I was sixteen, never looked back.” 

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected her to say instead, but her smile caught him off guard, just as her reply did when she said, “Me too. I only got to sophomore year, tenth grade and then you know… end of the world and all, no more buses running.” 

And just as simple as that, she’d managed to find the knot of his worry and cut right through it. The funny thing was, he’d never even thought of it like that. There’d been a time where he’d seen her as this little girl with a perfect life; the family he’d never had, the home he’d never had. There were times around everyone, including her, where he felt like the idiot he was pretty sure a lot of them thought he was, too. And yet now she’d pointed it out that they had pretty much the same level of education… and though he was sure she’d done far better in school than he ever had, it was still oddly equalizing in a way. 

Something about that must have shown on his face because she was giving him a soft smile and leaning in to brush her arm against his once more as she added playfully, “It’s okay, I don’t need high school anymore. I’ve got something even better.”

“Oh yeah?” He couldn’t imagine what that was.

“Yep!” She lifted the book into her lap and opened it before darting another little smile up at him. “Daryl Dixon University. I don’t think I’ve graduated yet, but I’m getting there. And I think I’m a pretty good student, most times…” 

His chuckle rumbled deep in his chest, but when he finally spoke his voice was softer and more serious, and without thinking he found himself reaching out to tuck a stray bit of hair behind her ear as he murmured, “Best student I ever had.” The tips of his ears burned and he drew his hand back, but Beth didn’t pull away. She just smiled and leaned into him a bit before looking down into her lap once more.

Soon, the melodious sound of her voice filled the air, and a little while later when she started to sound worn out, Daryl only hesitated a moment before sliding the book into his lap to take over reading in her stead.

* * *

About halfway through the book both of them were worn out, and not just from going back and forth and sharing the reading. It had been a long and trying day; from the tension between them, to the revelation at the railroad tracks and everything that had followed. Daryl wasn’t at all surprised to see Beth drifting beside, growing steadily sleepier until her head had come to lightly rest on his shoulder. 

He’d thought she might have fallen asleep by the time he closed the book and set it aside, but when he looked at her she was staring into the fire, eyes unblinking. He sensed a shift in her and it was yet another thing that he could wait out patiently, giving her the time and quiet she needed to voice it if she wanted to.

It was just a couple minutes later that she murmured softly, “I always knew she was out there. I just knew, in my gut, that she was still alive. Didn’t I tell you, again and again?” She had of course, but he didn’t think she wanted an actual response to that. So he stayed silent, and sure enough she went on, “But I always imagined it differently. I always imagined she’d be looking for me the way I was for her. Sometimes I even thought that she’d be the one to find us, you know? That she’d drag Glenn through hell and high water to find me. The only family she had left.” She blinked just once, and sighed. “I should’ve known better.” 

The last had him raising an eyebrow, though still he stayed quiet and after a moment she filled his silence again with her low, tense voice. “Maggie just… she has a one-track mind. She’ll focus on one thing and just… forget everything else. Sometimes it was me, but not always.” A sad smile tightened across her full lips as her voice grew distant. “We used to have girl’s nights when we were younger. We’d spend the night in each other’s rooms or we’d take over the living room and watch a romantic comedy and sneak ice cream out of the freezer when Daddy was asleep. Only sometimes as we got older, Maggie would forget. She’d have a date, usually, and she’d forget to even tell me, and when she came back she’d always act like it was nothin’ that she forgot, or that a boy had asked her out and she’d said yes without even thinking about me. But I’d always forgive her because she was my sister, you know?” 

If her eyes were blinking a little more rapidly now, or if they looked brighter with unshed tears, Daryl didn’t comment aloud. But after a moment he did shift to slide one arm gently around her shoulder until she hummed and leaned into him. “I guess I thought something like this wouldn’t be like that because it was so much bigger than forgetting a girl’s night. Maybe it was different... ‘cause I dunno if she forgot me like she used to. I think she just… thought Glenn was a better chance. I think she figured if anyone was gonna get out and survive and find her, it was him. And he’s her husband, so of course she’d want to find him, but I think… I think she thought he was out there… and I wasn’t.”

It was her mention of Glenn being a better chance that made him want to speak up, to make some denial, but Beth beat him to it. Her voice was low and almost rough in it’s conviction as she breathed out, “She was wrong. I’ve got just as good a chance as Glenn ever had, and I always did. She should have believed in me, but she didn’t. She was _wrong_.” She turned to look up at him and his heart wrenched at the look of pain and anguish in her big blue eyes. He’d have taken a swing at anyone who ever dared to make Beth Greene look like that. If Maggie had been here, he’d have done it in a heartbeat; verbally at the very least, if not physically.

But she wasn’t here, Beth was. Beth with the pain in her eyes and the hint of a quiver to her lower lip as she looked up at him, trying so damn hard to be strong and believe in herself. “She damn well was wrong,” he responded in a gruff firm voice as his free hand came around to cup her chin and hold her gaze to his. “She was. Look at you. Sprained ankle, broken wrist, and you’re still trekking through the forest like you were born to do it. Better than your sister ever was, trust me. Had enough runs with her and her clodhopper feet snapping twigs ever two steps.” 

The laugh she gave was higher than it should have been, bubbling like the tears did in her eyes but he could tell it was a good laugh. The kind of laugh she’d needed. Because when it faded, she blinked back her tears and he saw some of the tension ease from her body. “Maybe I’m like this place, you know. Like grain, getting turned into flour. I was already strong but getting out of the prison and being with you, it’s like it ground me up even finer. Made me stronger.” In the faint glow from the stove fire, he studied her face as she talked, unconsciously shifting his hand to brush his thumb over the line of her jaw.

At the touch of the pad of his thumb over her soft skin Beth sighed and tilted her head against his hand and lord if that didn’t feel nice. Like there was something unfurling inside of him again, something warm and content. He felt almost like a cat curled up in a warm patch of sunlight, only for him the light shone from a sweet little blonde with eyes like a piece of sky. He felt like he could soak up that feeling all night if she’d let him, and she seemed to have no desire to pull away. In fact she just stayed there, eyes slitted half-shut, almost like a cat herself enjoying his touch as he continued to gently stroke his thumb over her jaw and across the soft apple of her cheek until she breathed out a content sigh.

“You know what you were saying earlier?” Her voice was soft and hazy and sweet, and he was glad to hear that the tightness had faded from it. “‘About staying here for a few days, making runs to check out the farms nearby?”

“Mhm.” Daryl hummed a reply as he watched her, mesmerized by how at ease she seemed to feel in his presence. 

“I think we should do that.” Her eyes opened slowly to fix on him and he could see that comfort in her gaze, too; all full of trust and safety and affection… and then just a tiny, tiny hint of doubt as she added, “If… if you want to. Unless you think we should follow the tracks and try to find them.” 

He took just a moment to think it over but he didn’t really need to. Not with her looking at him like that all full of every single thing he felt being like this with her, too. Even closer somehow than that night at the funeral home because tonight he didn’t just have a silent stare to give her in return; he had words as well. “I think we should stay here if that’s what you want. S’you and me now, ain’t it?” She nodded slowly, and he gave her a hint of a smile. “Then it’s you and me. As long as you’re happy, I am.” Daryl hesitated just another moment and then couldn’t resist the urge to ask, “You happy staying here?” 

“I am,” she breathed out the words and lord if she wasn’t looking up at him the same way she had that night in the flickering candlelight. Except her eyes had been all full of understanding that had been dawning then and now, in the light of the stove, seemed settled and _known_ instead. “I’m happy staying here, with you.” 

“Then so am I.” It was that simple. Just as simple as it was to draw her close and guide her head to rest against his chest. Just as simple as it was to lean down until his chin rested on top of her head and she breathed out a sigh against his shirt. 

“Daryl?”

He let his chin lightly brush over her head (like a cat’s affectionate rub) before settling again, “Mm.” 

“I’m glad it’s just you and me.” 

She said it so honestly and simply that he knew she meant it. So as his fingers curled into her ponytail and lightly toyed with that little braid, Daryl just hummed and murmured back simply as well, “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! The 'something different' was the grist mill, by the way. I got tired of having them stumble onto random cabins, haha. Anyway I did my best to be accurate though it might not be 100% correct, I hope it's somewhat close. Kudos and comments are always appreciated and thank you all again for continuing to read this! (See, I'm getting better about updating this one more often!)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exploring a nearby farm brings up not only memories but a myriad of old and new feelings for Beth and Daryl both.

The fire in the woodstove had burned down to ashes by the time they woke the next morning. Not wanting the smoke of a new fire to be seen from their chimney, they had eaten their last can of food cold, passing it back and forth between them until it was empty. After a trip around the side of the building to relieve themselves away from the small stream of water, Daryl and Beth had reassembled and chosen a direction to head in for the day’s search.

“I figure the farms would have been spread out all around it,” Beth remarked as she shaded her eyes against the early sun, “So there should be a few of them around here in each direction.” 

One of the directions was clear of trees and gave them a view of a distant stretch of fields that looked promising, so for today they’d headed in that direction. With the morning sunlight shining down on them, the fields they trecked through almost looked as if they were gilded gold and glowing in the light. A rather poetic thought for Daryl, but he couldn’t seem to help it. He tried to keep his eyes on their surroundings as they moved side-by-side through the grass, but his gaze kept straying to Beth. The sun worked it’s magic on her too, making her blonde hair shine like a crown of gold or perhaps a halo. That same brightness reflected in her eyes each time she looked at him; the blue reminding him of the clear skies above but even prettier thanks to her soft happy smile. 

Beth must have seen the same beauty, at least in the fields that surrounded them. As they walked he could hear her singing, her sweet voice just loud enough for him to hear the words of the song: _Can I take it to a morning where the fields are painted gold, and the trees are filled with memories, of the feelings never told?_ Her voice trailed off when she caught him watching her, but the smile on her lips was just as sweet as her voice, at least in his mind.

He was glad to see the improvement in her mood today, so much better than she had been in the last few days from their disagreement to the revelation about her sister. She almost seemed to be in a _good_ mood today, and it seemed to be rubbing off on him, as if just being in the presence of her soft singing and little smiles lifted some of his tension away. 

“So what should we look for, you know, besides food?” Beth glanced over at him and flashed him another little smile. “I’m making a mental shopping list. I feel like it’s been ages since we’ve done that. Since the prison, I guess…” When his only reply was a nod and a hum of agreement, Beth went on easily, “We should find some blankets. That mattress wasn’t bad but if we’re gonna stay for a bit…”

She darted another glance at him, waiting until he gave another ‘mm’ and a nod in reply. Their conversation from last night stood; if she wanted to stay then that was what they’d do. That was that, and Beth seemed to get it. With a smile, she continued, “And you know what I really want to find? Books.” Now her smile was almost shy as she peered over at him and went on, “It was nice, reading with you last night. I don’t know how long those three books will last us, but I thought maybe we could find a couple others, I dunno. Did you like the book last night?” 

“Weren’t bad.” His response was short, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips that he knew Beth could see. Each day he thought she got better and better at reading him, more so than any of the people he had lived with since the world had changed. Sometimes he thought despite all their time together, they had looked at him still and saw nothing but a silent, grumpy hunter. Not Beth. Come to think of it, it had been a long time since she had looked at him like that. He wondered if she ever even had, or if those piercing and knowing big blue eyes had always been able to see what other’s hadn’t. 

She was doing it now anyway, smiling over at him through her fringe of hair before she focused her gaze back ahead. When she fell silent for a few moments, Daryl took advantage of the quiet to study her a bit in return. She was walking better than she had been; her limp was far less pronounced and he imagined that in a couple days she would barely feel it. Her wrist on the other hand would take far longer to heal. It was fractured rather than sprained or twisted, and all thanks to those assholes hitting her with their car.

Every time he looked at her wrist he felt guilt and anger like twin beasts clawing at his gut. Anger was a wild thing, growling in his chest and rearing back as if to claw it’s way free from his ribs and launch again at those who had dared to hurt her. His guilt was darker and stealthier, coiling up around his heart and reminding him that he’d failed her by letting her get taken in the first place. He’d failed her by sending her away without him and for that he’d very nearly lost her, and the makeshift brace on her wrist was a big glaring reminder of that.

“Daryl? Hey. Daryl.” 

It took him a moment to register Beth’s voice, and even when he did his only response was to blink at her and then ask gruffly, “What?” 

At some point she’d drifted back to walk beside him and now she looked over with a hesitant and tentative smile. “You were glaring at my arm for a good couple minutes. I don’t think that’ll make it heal faster, you know.”

His ‘hum’ of acknowledgement belied the thoughts churning within him. All that guilt and anger, fueled by a lifetime of self doubts and the knowledge that bad things seemed to be just about all he was entitled to in life, all he ever seemed to get.

Well, almost.

Because there was Beth, and she was far from a bad thing. She was in so many ways the exact opposite of the majority of his life. Light against the darkness, hope set against bleakness, goodness shining out against a background of endless bad. That night in the funeral home he had seen that so starkly and clearly in the moments when she had asked him what had changed his mind. Thoughts that had been filtering through the back of his mind for days had suddenly broken free of the haze to become clear, like puzzle pieces fitting themselves together with a crisp ‘click’ by her soft, sweet hand. 

She hadn’t just changed his mind though. She had changed his life, in more than one way, and she kept doing it. It was like each day that puzzle that was his mind kept expanding beyond what he’d imagined, as if each moment with her pressed another piece into place around the edges, or even right at the center over his heart.

Merle would have never let him hear the end of it for thinking poetic bullshit like that, but then again Merle never would have understood Beth. He probably never would have looked at her as anything but a piece of tail… or maybe not. Maybe that was underestimating Beth and her ability to get under people’s skins and into their minds (and hearts). 

He’d never know, either way. Because Merle was gone. Everyone was gone, at least for the time being. Right now it was just the two of them.

Just her, looking over at him all sweet and concerned and him, walking along in silence unable to put into words all the things he was feeling-- all the things he had been feeling for a good long while now. 

“Just thinkin’.” His reply was belated, but what was that saying? Better late than never. Maybe it was true sometimes anyway. Though lately he had begun to think about how late _could_ mean never, in a world where the next day could always be your last and you might not make it to see the sun rise again. 

Against the thoughts in his mind and the curious look on Beth’s face, he pointed ahead with his crossbow to a structure breaking the line of the fields in the distance. “Looks like y’were right. Comin’ up on something soon. Little bit longer, we’ll be able t’ see what it is…”

* * *

What it was, unsurprisingly, was a farm house. Daryl hadn’t been the only one to come to a stop seeing it for the first time. The white house was simple and small, two stories but with a small front porch rather than a wrap-a-round. Still, he knew without even needing to look at Beth that both their minds had gone back to the same place. To another white farmhouse set in the midst of a series of large fields just like this one, once upon a time. Even the barn was similar, the same shape as the one he remembered but all red instead… and of course, not burned down. 

“You okay?” The question came out of his mouth without him even thinking about it, and Daryl dropped his head and scuffed his foot on the ground as soon as the words were free. If it’d been him and someone had asked him that, he’d probably just glare at them for daring to even wonder. 

Then again, it was well established that Beth rarely reacted like he might. In fact her reaction seemed to be almost the opposite of that. He caught a glimpse of her upturned lips and even felt her briefly lean towards him so that their arms brushed. For the few seconds of contact he felt acutely aware of the oddest of sensations, like a faint tingle going up his arm that made his breath catch for just a moment. Twined through it all was the same thought he always had when Beth and him were close; that knowledge that if it were anyone else he’d have pulled away sharply but with Beth, the touch never bothered him. If anything he found himself wanting to lean towards her as she drew away, just to prolong it a few seconds more if he could. 

“C’mon,” he said instead, clearing his throat. “Let’s start with the house, then we can check th’ barn, just in case.” 

Beth might have been quiet but if there were memories plaguing her right now they didn’t distract her from the job at hand. She was just as focused as ever when they teamed up, moving side-by-side around the perimeter of the house before closing in on the front door. In practiced unison they made it through the front door, their routine knocking on the door summoning no walkers to greet them. Yet, anyway. 

He could see Beth’s gaze lingering as they made their way through the living room and down the hallway to the kitchen, but to his pride her training held true. She didn’t veer off despite what he was sure were numerous temptations. They both knew that properly clearing a house was often the difference between life and death and this home was no different. That became clear as they reached the second floor and were greeted by the sounds of scrabbling hands against a locked door and the familiar scent of death clinging to the air around them. 

“Leave it? Or clear it?” Beth’s gaze sought his out as she added, “Might be something good inside there.”

“Might not be.” Daryl’s gaze drifted over her, following a now well-worn map that lead from the bruised scar on her cheek to the bandage on her wrist and the ankle that she was trying not to put too much weight on. “Let’s not risk it. They’re secure in there. Prob’ly a bedroom or somethin’, ain’t much we need in there anyway.” 

“Daryl…” He turned and started to head down the hallway, but her voice followed him. “Daryl.” Soft as it was, he heard the slapping of rotted hands against the door grow louder, and worry furrowed his brow even as a hint of annoyance flashed into his eyes as he turned towards her. 

But as soon as he turned he saw that look in her eyes, a hint of worry and self doubt and he swiped his hand roughly through his hair as he growled out, “It ain’t that, okay?” 

“Ain’t what? I didn’t even get to say-” 

He shook his head as if to shake away her words. “Don’t need to.” He exhaled in a sigh and crossed the distance between them. His fingers curled hesitantly around her arm and through the faint electricity of that touch he looked into her eyes and gruffly went on, “It ain’t that I think you can’t handle it. I know y’ can. Ain’t I told you that before?” His tongue felt thick in his mouth the way it always did when he tried to say more than just one or two words. It was like his damn mouth knew how dense his brain was, knew he weren’t the kinda man that could speak at all half the time, let alone eloquently. Maybe his mouth knew it, and the thickening of his throat and the heaviness of his tongue was it’s way of telling him to stop trying.

(Or maybe it was self-doubt, that tight ball of it in his chest that had grown heavier with each passing year of his life.)

Whatever it was, this time he pushed past it, fueled by the look in her eyes and the feeling of her slender but muscled arm beneath his fingers. “ _Neither_ of us should risk it. S’only the two of us now. Ain’t gonna risk it becoming one, let alone zero. Us… living… s’more important than anythin’ we could find in that room. Okay?” 

A quiet fell between them. It only lasted a moment but to him it seemed to stretch, to hang in the air between them, strung up between the rhythm of their breaths as they inhaled and exhaled almost together. 

But then Beth smiled, soft and simple as her nod, and her hand came up to curl around his opposite arm and squeeze. “Okay.” 

The heaviness in the air vanished as soon as she lowered her arm and moved past him down the hallway, setting her gaze on another open door as she casually remarked, “But I do wanna check out some of these bedrooms. Maybe we’ll get lucky, and they’ll have clothes that fit…” 

Gone was the thickness in his throat and tongue, too, but something else remained. A hint of that electricity still fizzled just faintly in his veins, baffling him even as he followed behind the sway of her ponytail against her back.

(Almost like a horse might follow after a carrot, dangling by a string.)

* * *

Beth had gotten her wish when it came to the clothing, at least. The room that had been locked looked like it had been the master bedroom, and if the others had once been the rooms of the owner’s children, they had moved out long before the world had ended. No clothes in sight, though they had found a blanket on the bed and a stack of paperbacks on the small bookshelf. After slipping a couple books into his bag it had been Beth who had suggested they check the small attic, and up under the eaves of the roof she’d found several boxes packed away, each filled with old clothes all tightly sealed in plastic. 

Neither of them cared that the clothes were old or the slightest bit musky; hell, anything was preferable to the layer of grime and dirt they wore these days. Daryl was fine not changing till later, but Beth had wanted to put new clothes on right away and he didn’t begrudge her that. He had kept his back to her while she pulled off her cardigan and yellow polo shirt to tug on a brown tank top and a green-and-brown flannel over, the buttons left un-done for now. It wasn’t the sunshine yellow he was used to- the bright color he associated with her- but when she’d held it up for approval and softly murmured about how maybe it would blend in better in the woods, he hadn’t been able to protest. All he could do was nod in proud agreement. She was learning fast, and well.

There was one other thing he didn’t fail to notice though, and that was the way she’d balled up the yellow polo and the grey cardigan after she was done. Sometimes they saved their clothes to wash later if they could, because it was always good to have spares. Even here, with Beth grabbing a couple shirts for both of them and folding them into his bag, he might have suggested she keep it just in case. At least the cardigan, thick and warm as it was.

But then he saw her standing there with them balled up in her hands, looking distantly down at them until he realized that her hands were trembling. That her whole body in fact was faintly shivering and that the distance in her eyes was more than just memory. His stomach clenched and for a moment he could see her back in that police car as a cop- a man once sworn to protect- had run his hands down over her hip and leg; more a hungry beast than a hero in a uniform.

He could understand her not wanting anything to do with those clothes. Of course he could.

So he cautiously crossed the creaking floorboards of the attic towards her, and gently took them from her hands as if by holding them he could protect her from the memories. Or maybe there was a better way. It popped into his mind in a sizzle and a flash and without hesitating he breathed out, “We can burn ‘em, if you want.” 

( _We should go inside.  
We should burn it down._)

The sound of his voice pulled her eyes up to him as she drew her trembling empty hands to her chest instead. Once, twice she blinked before the haze cleared from her eyes and she focused back on him. “No…” Her voice sounded dry and she broke off to lick her lips and clear her throat before she went on, “No… stupid to risk it. They’re just clothes, right?” 

“Nothing is just anything, these days.” He said it without thinking about it, not even realizing the depth of his words let alone the poetry in them. He was far too focused on the poetry of Beth’s soft little smile in response and the way it made the lines of tension fade almost instantly from her face. “There’s a fireplace downstairs. Ain’t nothin’ so dramatic, but we ain’t been drinkin’ so maybe we’re not on our game.” 

She held his gaze for a long moment and he felt it again, the moment stretched heavy and important between them, rising and falling with their shared breaths. And then just as he was about to ask ‘well?’, she looked right into his eyes and breathed out bravely, “We should burn them.” 

His low chuckle loosened the weight of the air even as the memory of his words- ( _we're gonna need more booze_ )- echoed between them. He gave a slow nod of agreement, and if their eyes held a few beats longer or she seemed to lean into the space between them and part her lips in a way that drew his eyes down, well… It was just the moment or something, at least in Daryl’s mind. 

A moment he didn’t know what else to do with but clear his throat and nod back to the door. “C’mon. We’ll check th’ kitchen first, just in case th’ smoke draws anyone here. By the time they come, we’ll be out at the barn an’ then gone.”

* * *

They made relatively quick work on the kitchen. It wasn’t a huge find, but like many farmers the owners of this house must have grown and canned their own food, so there was a small supply they could take back to the mill for the night. He even found a backpack tucked away in one of the closets, small and black but perfect for Beth to start carrying her stuff in again since her old one had been left back on the road at that godforsaken funeral home. 

With the mason jars shared out in the bags between them and wrapped in the clothes they’d found so they wouldn’t clink too much, Daryl held her clothes in his hands as he made his way back to the living room. “Stay here,” he murmured, dropping his bag down beside her as he headed to the door. “Saw some firewood on the porch, I’ll grab one.” 

He was only gone a few seconds but when he came back she was standing by the mantle of the fireplace, holding a picture in her hands. When he spotted her running her thumb lightly over the glass he came up quietly behind her and peered down at the photo encased within. He didn’t have to ask. The truth was she didn’t even need to speak. They both saw the same thing when they looked at the photograph within, the family caught forever in that happy moment, trapped beneath the glass. Husband, wife, two daughters, standing on the porch of their little white farmhouse. 

Not the same, but close enough to tug at the strings of her heart and send up an echo of a deeply rooted ache. His too, though the strings were far less deeply connected than hers, he was sure. 

“C’mere.” His voice was low and rough as he gently tugged the frame from her hands and set it onto the mantle. With she turned to look at him he dropped to his knees in front of the fire and she followed, watching as he set tinder into the fireplace and lit a flame, letting it grow until he could place the log on top of it. They sat in silence broken only by the crackling of the fire until he reached slowly for the balled up polo and cardigan and pressed them gently back into her hands.

“Someone told me once,” Daryl began, his eyes on hers as he once again pushed back the thickness of his throat to put into words the things he thought she needed to hear, “Some things you just gotta put away. You gotta, or it’ll kill you.” 

His gaze followed the pink of her tongue as it swept across her dry lips and the shift of her throat as she swallowed hard, before murmuring, “Pretty smart, whoever they were.”

“Smartest girl I know.” There was no hesitation in saying that, and not even the faintest hint of thickness in his throat. She was and always would be the cleverest, most clear-eyed person he knew, especially when it came to things like this. Daryl reached out and guided her hands towards the fire but didn’t push her anymore, knowing it was something she had to do herself. “Gotta put it away, girl. Leave it behind.” 

And with one slow shaky nod, Beth did just that. She reached out her hands and dropped the blood-stained and memory-laden clothes into the hot, hungry flames. With eyes that could sometimes be just as observant as her own, Daryl saw the change go over her as the fire consumed not only fabric and thread but so much more; the pain of a car slamming into her side, the hazy knowledge that she’d almost been taken by black-hearted men who wanted to do unspeakable things to her. (The not-so-hazy knowledge that her own sister hadn’t hesitated to believe her dead, to put more hope in finding her husband then the only family she had left.) 

As the fire devoured all of that and more, Daryl saw the tension ease from the lines of her body as she exhaled in a slow sigh and relaxed back until the tight lines in her face disappeared. 

When she turned to him again there was a smile on her lips that didn’t falter even when he reached up without thinking to tuck a stray bit of hair behind her ears. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” 

“Oh yes.” 

He suddenly wasn’t sure if she was talking about the flames, or the touch of his fingers across her cheek. 

Maybe both. Because they both felt good to him, and again that feeling lingered even after the clothing had been burnt to a crisp and the fire extinguished.

* * *

They hadn’t had the fire burning for long but Daryl was still cautious as they slipped out of the farmhouse and crossed the long grass to the red barn. Walkers wouldn’t get drawn by the smoke but humans might, and these days he was more worried about walkers than humans, most of the time anyway. He saw no one for now but that caution remained as Beth helped him slide off the plank of wood holding the barn doors shut and slowly pull them open. 

This barn held no death inside, at least, though the sight of those opening doors had made both of them hesitate for a few moments, teetering on the brink of memories like the edge of a sharp piece of shattered glass. ( _I remember. When that little girl came out of the barn after my mom. You were like me._ ) But this time the doors didn’t release the sickening smell of the long-dead. Only sun-warmed hay and the lingering scent of old manure. If there had been horses in here once- and the smell that lingered in the air implied there had been- they had long since been taken, or perhaps escaped. They saw no bones in the few stalls they checked, although Beth did find a bucket she decided would be good for bringing water into the mill from the creek outside. 

She had attached it to the back of her new backpack where it clanged just faintly as she moved around the barn, exploring more but always staying within a few feet of him. The floorboards creaked beneath her feet and as he watched her he could see a weight upon her shoulders; not from the heat in the sun-warmed barn but from the memories he was sure it conjured up for her again. 

“I had my first kiss in a barn just like this.” Beth’s voice broke into the stillness unexpectedly and when he looked over at her she was twirling a bit of hay in her fingers with a shy little smile. “With Jimmy.” The dart of her glance up at him and then away reminded him of that hint of electricity he’d felt again and again today, lingering each time he was close to her and never quite fading. For the first time he wondered if maybe she felt it too, though he was quick to discard it. Just as quick as he was to attribute the blush on her cheeks to the warmth of the barn as she added, “It was kinda nice. He just kissed me quick and then got all flustered and ran off. Came up to me later and apologized and said his Ma would’ve been ashamed of him for not being a gentlemen with me.” 

She was quiet for a moment, still twisting the hay beneath her fingers until she looked up at him again. “What was your first kiss like?” 

The moment she asked the question, he chuckled all low and raspy. “Weren’t nothin’ like yours, that’s for sure.” He scuffed his foot on the ground and let his crossbow hand low from the strap he’d twisted between his fingers. “Was 16 or so. At some dive bar with Merle. Got me in because his friend owned it. Some girl there with her friend, hanging all over Merle. Think he dared her to do it or somethin’, I dunno.” He shrugged, his back all hunched up. “Don’t remember much of it.” 

That wasn’t entirely true. He remembered some of it.

He remembered that her hair had been blonde but not like Beth’s. Brassy, like a bad dye job or one gone all faded, cause her eyebrows had been brown instead. He remembered she’d swayed on the way over to him and that her breath had smelled like gin, so strong it had reminded him of his Mama on her bad nights, when she drank the strong stuff so she’d forget the way his Pa had beaten her. He remembered that her lips were all wet and that after she’d pushed him away and laughed and Merle had called him _Darylina_ all night for not seeming to want more. 

(He remembered nothing of that feeling he got sometimes now, like heat or electricity fizzling under his skin.)

And the truth was that most of his memories were like that. All tinged with Merle and hazy with liquor or something even stronger, and very rarely with a glimpse of any emotions beyond anger or sorrow or frustration. He didn’t have many like hers, many he could remember fondly or laugh over in a good sort of way. Not before this, anyway. Not before her.

Daryl didn’t realize how long he’d been staring at the ground until he looked up and realized Beth was only a couple feet away from him now, studying him with those big damn eyes like she could see right into him. He reckoned if anyone could, it was her. When it came to Beth it was like his skin was glass and she could see right through it to what he kept hidden away inside. 

“Would you have liked your first kiss to be like mine? In a barn like this, with a girl you liked?” There was something in her voice he couldn’t pinpoint, something soft and… almost breathy. Almost hopeful, in a way. 

Confused, he furrowed his brow and peered down at her. “But it weren’t. An’ anyway, weren’t ever no girl I liked would’ve done that.”

She took a step closer and tipped her head back to peer up at him, still all soft and sweet. “But what if it could have been? What if you could have a first kiss with a girl you liked, in a barn like this?” 

“Told you,” Daryl said roughly, “Ain’t possible…” 

“ _Daryl._ ” This time when she looked up at him she reached out slowly and rested her hand lightly on his chest, and there it was back again, the fizzle beneath his skin just itching to be named or freed. Or perhaps the freedom came in the naming of it, in the understanding. Her eyes held his as if willing to understand as she breathed out slowly, “But what if it could be?” She paused just a beat and a shy little smile curved up her lips. “What if it _can_ be?” 

And then finally, it clicked. 

_Oh._

“Beth…” He didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t know what else to do, except she was right there looking up at him with her cheeks flushed and her eyes all big and shiny and her soft pink lips parted and it hit him that this was real. That Beth Greene really was looking at him like that (again), really was suggesting, well… _that_. 

“I swear,” she breathed out as she leaned up ever-so-slowly onto her toes. “If you call me kid again right now Daryl Dixon, I will push you into the hay, so help me God…” 

It was so unexpected but so very Beth that all he could do was laugh and to his surprise the laughter eased some knot in his chest, and suddenly, it didn’t seem quite so impossible. “You ain’t a kid,” he murmured, closing the gap between them in one small step and lifting his hand to carefully cup the side of her face. “You ain’t even close to a kid, Beth. You’re…” 

(Perfect, beautiful, smart, clever, funny, sweet, too good for me, the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen… _Everything_.)

It was all right and yet at the same time, not enough. So instead of finishing the sentence, Daryl just leaned in and pressed his lips softly to Beth’s. 

And the fizzling under his skin was released, but instead of bursting free it sunk deeper instead, racing through his veins and into his lungs and heart, and finally it had a name that echoed through every inch of him as his lips stayed pressed to hers:

_Beth_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really, really enjoyed writing this update so I hope it showed. I had the end part written for about a week, but doing the rest today was just really easy and good and I love that. I've noticed I tend to do better when I focus on one fic for a bit, so I may try focusing on and updating this one only for at least this week, we'll see!
> 
> I recently posted a fanmix inspired by this story, it's what I listened to while writing this. I hope you'll check it out! You can find it on 8tracks here: [Chasing Cars Fanmix](http://8tracks.com/burnedupasun/chasing-cars). You can also reblog it on tumblr [right here](http://burningupasun.tumblr.com/post/113011301674/chasing-cars-a-bethyl-fanmix-for-my-post-alone).
> 
> Hope you all liked it as much as I did. Please comment, if you feel like it. Comments are love. <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of their kiss, Beth and Daryl both come to some interesting revelations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance if this is awful... the time change has me a little messed up (darn daylight savings time), and I have a bad toothache that's really making it hard to concentrate. Fingers crossed this isn't a mess!

_Hay_. The scent of it lingered in Beth’s nose as she walked a short distance behind Daryl on their way back towards the mill, and she was pretty sure the lingering aroma wasn’t just because of the small piece of it she had slipped into her pocket and was toying with now as she walked.

She’d always had memories associated with the scent of hay; growing up on the farm it was impossible not to. Hay made her think of horses, of playing hide-and-seek with Shawn, of curling up in the loft with her CD player and a notebook to scribble in, or the sound of her Mama’s voice calling her down for dinner.

Now the scent of it conjured a new, fresh memory. One that made her cheeks go the tiniest bit pink each time she replayed it in her mind, one that made her feel all warm and flustered like she was on the brink of something new, something both exciting and terrifying all at the same time. The scent of hay in her nose made her think of the press of Daryl’s lips to hers; firm and warm and the tiniest bit dry. The rush of warmth through every inch of her like it was being carried from her lips to her veins and through all of her limbs. 

The mess of thoughts hadn’t come until after, because in that moment all she had been able to think was: _I’m kissing Daryl Dixon, and lord is it good_. No, it was only after that the other thoughts crept in. Only when she pulled back from him all flushed to see a similar pink to the tips of his ears, only when she’d opened her mouth to say something only to be cut off by him running his fingers roughly through his hair as he turned towards the door and gruffly muttered at her, “Should go.” 

That was it; two words. It was all he’d said to her since the kiss, but Beth wasn’t too upset about that. Of course that was partially because she was still in a bit of a haze over having kissed him but also, well… it was Daryl. She had barely cracked the surface of him and yet she knew something of his complexities. After weeks of only the two of them side-by-side, sometimes with barely a word spoken by him, was this really much of a surprise? 

No. Although her gaze did still stray again and again to his back as they walked back towards the old mill. She peered at him as if wishing she could crack open that handsome head and see inside to all the thoughts he kept hidden beneath. She wondered what he was thinking now, wondered what he had been thinking _then_ , standing in that barn and leaning down to press his lips to hers. 

She wondered… had there been a revelation, behind those guarded eyes?

There had been for her, but it had come before the familiar scent of hay and the warmth of the sun-drenched barn. It had come instead in the flicker of flames and the scent of her clothes burning up in front of her right along with some of the painful memories of her past. She had felt the fear evaporating as if the flames of the fire had turned it all to smoke that she could just purse her lips and blow away, and it was all because of Daryl. She had looked up and seen him, but she had also _seen_ him. She’d seen the look in his eyes that day in the cell when he’d come to tell him about Zach, when she’d felt his body tense beneath her hug and his hand rise slowly and oh-so-cautiously to cup her elbow. She’d seen his smoldering eyes looking at her from across a fire night after night until she’d made that first move, crossing to the other side of the fire to sit with him instead. She’d seen the pain in his eyes that day in the shack, both of them lit on moonshine and him like a scared child, screaming out in the voice of the father he was so terrified of becoming.

She had looked at him in that moment, lit by the fire that was burning up her bad memories and she had seen him lit up by his own fire, his hand thrust up defiantly against the night sky as they burned down not only their shelter for the night but more importantly, his past. His regrets, his fears, his memories… his dread that all of it would be in him forever, until she showed him how to leave it behind. Just like he had showed her now, his rough but gentle hands pressing those clothes into her hands like she’d handed him the first jar of moonshine to toss across the darkened living room full of unwanted memories. 

As the flames crackled and snapped and devoured, Beth had looked at him and seen him looking right back as he had done so many times before. Watching her settle his bow into her arms, watching her crouch down to peer at the tracks of a rabbit dashed across the forest floor, watching her from across the table in a candlelight-lit kitchen with a universe of words in his eyes and nothing but an ‘oh’ on her lips in return. 

It had been there in his eyes again. There had been a world full of emotion in his gaze and Beth had felt something rising up in her in response. Something so immense it might have been overwhelming, except that she had looked at him and _seen_ him and against the immensity of what she felt (what she realized she had been feeling for so long now, just building up inside of her so slowly) she set the simple knowledge that this was _Daryl_. What she felt might have verged on overwhelming, but it was Daryl. He might have been gruff, he might have had a past so dark it made her heart ache to even think about it… but she trusted him. With her life, actually, and she had even before he’d quite literally saved that life for her by chasing after that car until he caught her. 

So it had been a little frightening to suddenly look at him and realize just what it was she was feeling, but it was hard to truly be scared because it was _him_. The same man who had never left her side, who had made sure her first drink was memorable, who had taught her to hunt and track and believed in her ability to do so. The same man who had run miles and miles to catch her and carried her to safety in his exhausted arms; the same arms that had wrapped around her and held her close, anchoring her against the pain of realizing that her sister didn’t believe in her and maybe never truly had. 

Remembering that had only added to the butterflies in her stomach as she’d stood in that barn watching him, unable to think of anything but what a good man he was and how he deserved all the happy memories he could possibly have. 

Like being kissed in a sun-warmed barn by a girl who liked him. A girl who looked into his eyes and thought she saw the same tidal wave of emotions that she felt swirling like butterflies in her own stomach. 

Beth hadn’t wondered then what he was thinking, but she did now. She might have been able to look into him sometimes and just see to the heart of him, but she was so far from understanding everything about Daryl Dixon. He was a mystery in a myriad of ways, but she liked that about him. She liked not knowing, even if it was a little scary in moments like this where she felt like she had her toes right on the edge of a precipice and she just wanted to know if his hand was going to be in hers when she took that leap over it. 

He hadn’t left her alone yet. Beth had faith that he wouldn’t do it now, either.

She wondered if maybe he needed the same reassurance. If he did, that at least was easy to give. Beth just picked up her pace a tiny bit to come up beside him and turned her head, finding his eyes hiding beneath his long fringe of hair and giving him a soft smile. That was all. Just a soft smile and the brush of her arm against his as they walked, but simple as it was it felt like enough.

Especially when she saw the corner of his lips tug up briefly in response, and especially when he didn’t make a move to pull away. He just kept walking beside her, slowing his pace instinctively to match her own. It wasn’t a hand in hers as they plunged over the edge, but she wasn’t alone and standing on her own, either.

So for now it was more than enough for Beth.

* * *

Daryl thought he had never felt so out of his depth before, and yet... maybe that wasn’t entirely true. Because when he thought back over the last few weeks, he remembered time after time where little Beth Greene had swept the rug out from underneath him and left his head spinning. She dazed him again and again and yet each time she also seemed to anchor him… as if he were a balloon on a string, buffeted by the breeze but secured by a string looped around her slender fingers. 

He had been brought to tears at the shack in the woods only to be anchored by her arms wrapped around his back. He had felt breathless at the sight of her so easily settling his crossbow into her arms and yet anchored the moment she had turned to smile at him. He had been rendered speechless in that funeral home and the flickering candlelight and that one word, that _oh_ , had both buffeted him and tethered him all at the same time. 

Over and over again she had knocked him down and picked him right back up again and today was no different except that with the sensation of being adrift-yet-tethered there was also the lingering warmth of her lips against his own. Despite the kiss having long-since ended, it was almost like he could still feel her lips pressed to his. Like some sentimental idiot, he very nearly lifted his fingers to his lips before he caught himself. 

In the back of his mind he could almost hear Merle calling him _Darylina_ , mocking him for being so flustered by a simple damn kiss.

But that was the thing. It wasn’t a simple kiss, because it was Beth. Sweet, strong Beth… so like the girl’s he’d occasionally seen as a kid, those perfect pristine girls with twirling sundresses and ribbons in their hair and clean white socks on their feet. Girls like that had never wanted anything to do with him, and by all rights he would have assumed Beth would be the same, but of course she wasn’t. Beth wasn’t like _anyone_ he’d ever met before. She was as tough as she was soft, as strong as she was sweet. 

Sometimes she reminded him of a tree. Soft enough to sway in the breeze but with roots that went down deep, keeping her standing strong even in the midst of the toughest storms. 

There he was getting all poetic again, but he couldn’t seem to help it. She just brought it out of him. She brought a _lot_ of stuff out of him, whether she was nearby or not. Right now, for example. He’d left her inside- insisting gruffly that she rest her ankle for a bit- and gone out to fill the bucket with water from the stream and do a few circles around their ‘camp’ to look for walkers or dinner or whatever else he could find. She was safely inside with several walls between them and yet still she filled his thoughts, still she guided his movements even without him realizing it.

After a half hour he had a pair of squirrels already skinned and cleaned and strung up over his shoulder, but he also had something that even better, at least in his mind. He’d come upon a beech tree at the perfect time; the nuts just ripe enough to eat but not so much that they’d dropped to the ground to be devoured by animals. He’d gathered up as many beechnuts as he could fit, wrapping them in his bandana and sticking them in his pockets before he headed back towards the mill.

Beth would be happy to see them. That was the thought that stuck in his mind from the moment he’d laid eyes on that tree. He could just imagine the way her face would light up and how she’d probably instantly launch into some idea for how to cook them. The anticipation had his pace picking up as he strode back towards their shelter, forgetting in his enthusiasm to worry about what they’d done earlier in the barn. 

(Though he had worried before, over and over again as they’d left the barn and walked back towards the Mill. His mind had churned over questions one after the other. Had he made a mistake? Did _she_ think she’d made a mistake? Should he say something? Was she going to? What did it all mean? What was gonna happen next? And then she’d come up beside him and lightly brushed her arm against his and suddenly, it had all seemed to silly to worry about… for now, anyway.) 

Those worried thoughts were far from his mind now as he moved across the field towards the kudzu-covered building in the distance, the squirrels swinging at his back and the beech nuts lightly shaking in his pockets. His only thought was to get back to Beth, to see the way she lit up at what he’d brought back to her. 

He pushed open the door of the mill, bringing the bucket of water in with him and setting it to the side as he bolted the door and barred it with the old table before making his way upstairs. Though he looked around as he climbed the stairs, he knew where he’d find her. Sure enough as he reached the top floor, his eyes landed on her right where he’d expected. She was sitting cross-legged on the mattress, now covered by the new blanket she’d found at the house they’d gone to today. In front of her Beth had lined up the mason jars in a neat row beside the stove and he wasn’t sure why, but something about it struck him as oddly… homey.

Or what he imagined homey might feel like, anyway. He didn’t have much experience with it himself.

“Takin’ inventory?” Despite his poetic thoughts of a few moments ago, Daryl’s voice was as gruff and low as usual as he came around the table towards the mattress where she lay. Despite his gruffness though, there was a softness to his expression that most people probably wouldn’t have noticed.

(Beth was, as always, far from most people.)

She looked up at him with a warm smile and a chuckle as she replied, “Sort of. I just thought they looked nice like that, actually.” When he hummed and unslung his bow to slowly hang it over the back of an old wooden chair, she went on, “My Mama used to do that sometimes. After she canned, she’d line them all up on the counter for my Daddy to see when he came home… but then she’d leave it for a few days. She said she liked how it looked.” 

Beth’s gaze strayed back to the jars but Daryl’s stayed on hers, studying the look on her face, equal parts fondness and longing as she ran her fingers across the tops of the jars. “I always thought they looked pretty, especially when the sun came in. All those nice colors, you know?” 

He didn’t know. Or he hadn’t until now. But when he murmured, “Yeah,” back at her, it wasn’t the jars of canned vegetables he was looking at but the curve of her pink cheek and the tendril of blonde hair that had escaped from her ponytail to trail across it. Realizing he was staring a bit, (and feeling again like a sentimental fool), Daryl cleared his throat and pulled the looped string of squirrels off his belt to show them to her instead. “Got us dinner…” 

It was nothing special, nothing they hadn’t had probably far too many times before, and yet she still grinned up at him at the sight of the skinned animals dangling in front of her. “Daryl, that’s great! We can cook those up maybe with come of this corn, that sounds good, doesn’t it?” 

She was already leaning over to reach for a jar of corn when Daryl cleared his throat and stuffed his hand in his pockets. “Got somethin’ else, too.” He waited until she looked up at him and still hesitated, but only for a moment. Shoulders hunched and head ducked, he pulled his bandana free and offered it carefully to her. It wasn’t like he was nervous or something. It was just beech nuts, after all.

But there was still a look of anticipation on his face as Beth settled the bandana into her lap and opened it, one corner at a time as if she were unwrapping a present for Christmas or something. “Oh Daryl!” She gave a little intake of breath and then looked up at him and yeah, there it was. Her smile. Like the damn sun coming out from behind the clouds or something as she just beamed up at him and exclaimed brightly and happily, “You found _beech nuts_!” 

“Yeah…” He scuffed his foot on the ground and shrugged, the downward tilt of his head hiding his hint of a smile. “Ain’t nothin’ much though, just found ‘em in the woods.”

“Well I think it’s somethin’ special. I _love_ beechnuts.”

“You do?” He peered up at her from under his fringe and sure enough she was still smiling like the sun at him, the rays of it even reaching through the shield of hair across his face. 

“I do! We’re going to eat like the king and queen of the mill tonight.”

“Queen of the Mill, hm?” Daryl snorted down at her and shook his head, but then stretched out his hand towards her in offering. “Well c’mon, _your highness_. Time to cook some squirrels. If that ain’t beneath you.” 

“Daryl Dixon, nothing involving you in beneath me.” Beth gripped his hand and rose to her feet and Daryl suddenly felt that sort of rootless feeling again. He wasn’t sure whether it was her bubbly laughter, or the sudden nearness of her body so close to his, or her hand still clasped in his own, but all he could do was stand there blinking at her until suddenly she smiled and squeezed his hand… and he was anchored once more. Or at least tethered. 

Merle would have made some joke about a dog on a leash or a ball and chain, but the truth was, Daryl had never felt anchored in his life before, in any way at all… and the truth was he didn’t really mind it one bit.

* * *

Dinner was one of the best he remembered having in a while. Beth roasted the squirrel, corn, and beachnuts all together and it was almost like a real dinner, even if they didn’t have plates. They just ate it right out of the pot with their hands, and who needed a fork when instead he got to watch Beth giggling as she scooped dinner into her mouth with her slender fingers?

After, there was a moment where he didn’t seem to know what to do with himself. He just stood there kinda hulking over her, hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched again, probably looking as awkward as he felt. But she just curled up on the mattress with her legs tucked to the side and patted the space next to her with a soft smile. “C’mon, King of the Mill. You get to choose the book tonight. You want to finish reading the one we started, or start another one?” 

With a slight grunt, he lowered himself down beside her on the mattress and gave a little shrug to say he didn’t care either way. But then she leaned into him just enough for their arms to brush, and the warmth of her touch had him muttering, “Finish the one from yesterday.” He hesitated, and then reached out to tap the cover of it. “Wanna see if he gets that damn Falcon or not, y’know?” 

“Oh good choice, me too!” Beth gleefully picked it up and flipped to the page she’d marked by turning down the corner. Soon the room was filled with her soft, melodious voice, and Daryl just let himself relax and get pulled right back into the story. He was so relaxed that when he took over reading for her a short while later, he didn’t even flinch at how she shifted to lean against him, or at how eventually she ended up with her cheek resting on his shoulder as she peered down at the book in his lap. 

It was twenty minutes later that his voice trailed off and he glanced down at Beth to realize she’d fallen asleep. Her cheek was pillowed on his chest, her cheeks faintly rosy from the shared warmth of their bodies and the fire in the iron stove. She was curled up against him with one of the blankets tugged up over her shoulder and as he watched her, he found himself noticing the littlest things… like the fringe of her eyelashes against her skin, or the faint smile on her lips even in sleep… or the way looking at her like this had him feeling all strange again, like something inside of him was suddenly so light he could up and float away and yet all he wanted was to stay right here. With her.

Even in sleep the girl could knock him onto his ass; metaphorically, anyway. But that was Beth. Hard but soft, strong but sweet. Figured a girl like him could hit him in the gut just by falling asleep on his shoulder. It was terrifying and yet he didn’t feel the need to run, didn’t feel the need to push her off him and growl and stalk away like some antisocial animal. 

_She’s changing you, baby brother. Got you wrapped around her finger. That ain’t no anchor, s’ball and chain Darylina, and you know it._

Merle’s voice echoed through his mind, travelling down paths it had long since worn into his psyche but for once it didn’t work. For once, Merle’s voice didn’t worm it’s way into his mind. For once he shook it off with a grimace that smoothed out the moment he looked down at Beth, curled up against him. She looked so… content, and peaceful, and maybe even _happy_. 

She looked the way he felt right now with her laying against him. Like they’d been given this moment, brief as it might have been, just to be content. Just to have peace. 

Before her, it hadn’t really been the sort of thing he’d have thought he wanted and yet right now, he thought he might aggressively charge down anything that dared interrupt the quiet, simple moment. So when Beth stirred against him, blinking up at him and mumbling a sleepy, “Daryl?” He just shook his head and slung his arm around her back.

“Shh,” he murmured, his hand coming to rest on her slender shoulder as he nudged her into resting her cheek back against his. “S’alright. Go t’sleep, Beth. I got you.”

Half-asleep, she sighed out, “Promise?”

“Always.” He didn’t even have to think about it. He would watch her all night long if it meant letting her have the peaceful moment she deserved.

(The peaceful moment maybe they _both_ deserved.)

* * *

“Daryl! Daryl wake up!” His eyes were fluttering open even before she began to gently shake his shoulder, and by the time her fingers curled in tighter he was sitting up sharply to shoot her a worried look.

“Beth?” His sleep-rough voice ground out the worried words, “What is it? Y’okay?” The contentedness of the night must have lured him to sleep, though he couldn’t remember much of that. That warm peacefulness was gone now, banished by the jarring way he’d been woken up and that anxious look in her big blue eyes.

“I’m okay but I think something happened, Daryl. C’mon, you have to come see.” 

“Beth…” But she was already climbing to her feet and tugging him with her, and even if he’d wanted to protest he couldn’t. Not when she was looking at him with those big damn eyes like she _needed_ him to come with her.

“C’mon, hurry…” 

He stopped only long enough to grab the strap of his bow and sling it over his back and then he was following her, fingers straying instinctively to the hilt of the knife he wore at his waist. He only pulled his hand away from it to remove the table that was propped up against the door and then back to the knife his fingers went as he followed her out into the early morning sunlight.

“Alright,” he grunted, worry lending a sharper edge to his already gruff voice. “What the hell is it, Beth?” 

“Look.” For a moment he just blinked at her, until his gaze shifted to follow her outstretched arm and pointed finger… and then he saw it.

Curling above the tree tops far off in the distance; a thick, heavy cloud of smoke. Something was burning.

Something _big_. 

And he thought he had a feeling exactly what it was. 

"Beth, we need to get inside. _Now_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dunnnnnnnnnnnn! Hope you liked it? Comments are love, thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With smoke in the distance, Beth and Daryl have to choose their priorities and come to some important decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intended to update this a few days ago, but man do toothaches + anxiety make for bad writing conditions! I hope this chapter is okay, I'm worried it's a bit dull, but it's a very important building conversation for them.

"Beth, we need to get inside. _Now_."

The smoke billowed above the trees, too far away for them to scent on the air but no less blatantly noticeable now that he was out here. Ominous though it was, the smoke nonetheless only held his attention for a moment or two more before Daryl was turning around to eye the woods that edged the field around them instead. His sharp eyes searched the tree-line for any sign of movement in the shadows.

“Beth,” he half-growled her name again when she didn’t move from her spot staring over the trees, and turned urgently towards her to add.“Beth, we gotta get _inside_.”

“Why?” There was a distant look in her eyes that cleared as she turned towards him, as if focusing on him banished the cloud of thoughts in her mind, at least for the moment. “Daryl, what is that? What do you think happened?”

“Nothin’ good.” Daryl grunted out the words with a frown that only deepened as Beth started to turn to look back at the smoke. “Beth.” He reached out without hesitating this time, curling his fingers around her forearm until she glanced up at him with a look of surprise in her eyes. “Listen to me. That smoke, whatever it is, it’s gonna draw every walker nearby. You understand?”

It was only then that he saw it. The widening of her eyes and the dawning understanding that followed as she drew in a sharp intake of breath. But there was no panic. On the heels of her realization came a sharpening of her gaze, that strength he so admired in her and the common sense that had helped keep them both alive. A bit breathless, she urgently explained, “There was an explosion, too. You were asleep, that’s how I found it. They’ll have heard…”

“It’ll be even worse, then.” In his mind they were already all around them, potential herds of walkers closing in on them foot by foot as they instinctively trundled towards the explosion and the smoke in the sky. Daryl’s fingers curled the tiniest bit tighter around her arm as he fought the unexpected urge to pull her close, as if he could shield her in his arms from what might be about to come. As if he could become a wall, wrapped around her, sheltering her from the rising tide or the swelling storm. It was a silly urge. Beth could protect herself and even if she couldn’t, the mill behind them was a far safer shelter than his arms. 

And yet… and yet the feeling lingered and he allowed some of it to take root, just enough for his hand to smooth down over her arm and around to her back as he tugged her the slightest bit closer to him. 

Daryl looked down and into her eyes and for a second they just stood like that, holding each other’s gazes and breathing in to the same slow rhythm until finally, Beth nodded and murmured, “We should get inside. Board up the doors, make sure the windows are covered, get up to the top floor…”

“Hole up and ride it out?” It had been his plan too, and he was glad to see she was on the same page as him. It was, after all, a far better idea than the thought that he could keep her safe here just by wrapping her in his arms.

(Even if that idea still lingered in the recesses of his mind as he turned and guided her back into the Mill.)

* * *

Daryl wished he’d had time to head into the woods. Maybe get some more of those beechnuts Beth had loved so much last night or bag a couple of squirrels, but he couldn’t risk it. They both knew there were walkers in the woods and there was no doubt that they’d be lured towards the distant explosion and subsequent fire and smoke.

He’d had just enough time to fill their bucket and all their bottles with water from the stream, and even that had been a risk. In fact he’d just been ducking into the door of the mill when he heard the distant groan of the first walker coming out of the woods. Beth had worked her way around the bottom floor making sure all the windows were closed and covered, and she moved slowly back to his side as he bolted the door and wedged the table up against it. 

“C’mon,” he whispered, lifting the bucket as he handed her the bag with the water bottles inside of it. “Upstairs.” 

There was no need to say more. Even with everything barred and blocked it wasn’t safe to stay down here, talking and risking they might be heard. With Beth moving slowly but surely in front of him they made their way up to the third floor and relative safety. 

“Should be alright,” he murmured as he set the bucket of water carefully on the table. “Got enough water and food for a bit and it’ll be safer in a day or two.” 

“Daryl…”

He could feel her gaze on him as he spoke, staying steady even as he reached for the bag and began to unload the bottles of water as well. He knew that she wanted to ask him something, knew even what it was just from the heaviness of her voice and the weight of her gaze on him. Putting it off as long as he could, Daryl kept going, “We’ll just stay up here an’ wait it out. Should be fine.”

“Daryl…” He almost didn’t look at her but then she curled her fingers lightly around his arm and he couldn’t resist. Daryl glanced slowly over at her, eyes finding hers from under the fringe of his hair and wondering if she could see the worry in his eyes. He could see it in her own after all, especially as she murmured, “Whatever it was that burned up. Was it… I mean, you know, the railroad tracks…”

Daryl paused for just a second and then slowly nodded. “Yeah. Reckon it was that place... Terminus.” He wasn’t sure why he was so hesitant to confirm that. No, that wasn’t true. He knew why, and it wasn’t because he was unsure about exactly what direction that smoke had come from. It was because last night, he had been so completely at peace with Beth asleep and tucked up against him. Last night he had thought they were _finally_ getting the peaceful moment they deserved and he would have challenged anything that dared interrupt that.

And now something had, and a part of him was worried. Because this wasn’t something he could challenge. This was something that, despite what had happened to Beth the last time they’d been on those railroad tracks, might still pull her away from him. And he would never challenge her. He would follow after her to the ends of the earth, even if in the pit of his stomach was a thick and heavy sense of dread that it really might turn out to be the end. That was why he was worried. Because if he confirmed that it was the place he suspected, it might somehow lead to him losing her.

“Do you think they…” She started only to trail off, and despite his own worry he felt as if bands were clenching around his heart at the sight of the worry in _her_ eyes.

“I dunno, Beth.” Daryl ran his hand roughly through his hair. “We don’t even know if they were there at all, if any of them made it there. Maybe they did that themselves, blew the place up… we just… we don’t know.” His words trailed off as he hesitated for a few seconds. He felt as if he were standing right on the edge of something and he knew he could pull back, maybe even change the subject, and Beth wouldn’t push. But he had to ask. For _her_. It wouldn’t be fair not too, it wouldn’t be fair to deny her the chance even if it made his gut clench, and so he took the words that weighed like heavy stones in his chest and dragged them up in a hoarse whisper, “You wanna go find out?” 

Blue eyes held blue for a long moment that was punctuated only by the rapid beating of his heart, so loud he wondered if she could hear it, louder and louder each second she was silent, until finally she breathed out in reply, “No.” 

It was the answer he’d wanted and yet at the same time not the one he’d expected from her. It was so unexpectedly that when she spoke all Daryl could do was furrow his brow at her and ask hesitantly, “No?”

“Daryl…” Beth trailed off for a moment and he could almost see her thinking it over, trying to find the right words to say. Which was odd for him in a way… she’d always been the one who knew what to say and he’d always been the one who fumbled over it, at least in his mind. “It’s because of multiple things, I guess. I mean, logically I know it’s a bad idea. All those walkers are gonna be headed there, the woods will probably be full of them for the next few days or longer, and that’s not even taking into account what that place will be like. Probably crawling with them. So even if we could reach it, we’d have to face everything that’s waiting there and, well... and we don’t know anything about that place, either. What happened, who it was, who was even _there_.” 

She breathed in and out and he was surprised to notice that she was actually trembling, albeit faintly, as she went on, “It might be Maggie, but it might… it might not be. It might even be Rick and the others but… but we don’t know and they… and it ain’t…” Daryl started to reach out, her name on his lips, but he only got halfway before she was spitting out her real worries in a voice that rose with each word, “And it ain’t like _she_ came looking for me, is it? She had a chance. She had all the chances with those signs, and she just- She gave up on me. She didn’t even _try_ to look for me, so… So why should I? Why should I look for _her_ , Daryl?” 

Beth’s voice was tight and high, and each word brought with it a tightening of that band around his heart until he ached with it in a way he wasn’t at all used to. This time he did reach out. His hand found the side of her shoulder and gently cupped it as he looked into her eyes, and for once the words came right to his lips, as solid and sure as the truth always was. “Because you’re a good person.” 

The breath she drew in was slow and ragged and her eyes were so damn wide as they found his. “Says the man who never believed in good people before.” 

“Yeah, well…” He shrugged, because he didn’t know what else to do. “You know I do now.” Daryl swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he looked down at the ground for a long moment before glancing up at her carefully from under his fringe of hair to add in a low, near-whisper the words he hadn’t been able to voice before, “Cause of you.” 

He could see the _oh_ in her eyes without her even needing to voice it, just as he could see the faint smile that tugged at the corners of her lips and made her watery eyes glisten for a moment before she swallowed as hard as he had and gave a slow nod. 

“Look. S’like you said, we can’t go now anyway.” Daryl’s hand lightly squeezed her shoulder again. “Even if it wasn’t a risk cause of the walkers, an’ not knowin’ what that place was… there’s no way in hell I’m goin’ there without you healed first, okay?” 

Again Beth just nodded, and he found himself distantly amused at the fact that somehow the tables had turned, that he was the one talking while she just mutely listened and nodded in reply. Hell, it was amusing simply for the fact that he was actually talking and not just grunting at her, but somehow Beth just seemed to pull it out of him. 

He knew, as much as it confused him, that it was only because it was her. Just like it was her that had him going on softly, “So we’ll wait here, where it’s safe. An’ you’ll heal. An’ then, _maybe_ , we’ll try to make our way towards that place. But we’ll be careful, we’ll make sure we know what we’re getting into first, alright?” His hand moved almost of it’s own volition, fingers grazing her cheek to brush a stray bit of hair behind her ear. Just the brush of the pads of his fingers over her skin had Daryl’s breath hitching, but he kept his eyes on hers as he murmured lowly, “Cause I ain’t riskin’ you gettin’ hurt, okay? I ain’t riskin’ either of us.” 

It was only half a minute at most, if that, but the moment in which Beth held his gaze seemed to go on forever. There was so much swirling through the cornflower blue of her eyes that he almost felt like he could fall right into it, especially when she was just slightly tipping her head against the touch of his fingers to her cheek. When she finally broke the silent moment her voice was soft but sure as she echoed him, “Me either. I don’t want to risk either of us, Daryl. I think…” A furrow appeared in her brow for just a moment before it smoothed out, and she looked firmly into his eyes and went on, “I think that should be our priority.”

“Not risking each other?” Despite the serious conversation, the corner of his lip quirked briefly up.

“No. Well yes, but I mean… us. You and me. We should be our priority. Staying safe and alive, surviving… _together_.” She swallowed hard after the last word, and somehow he felt the depth of it even more keenly. It was like that one word- _together_ \- just dropped into him, sinking like a stone in a pond. Slowly but surely settling so very deep within him. Perhaps even right in his heart, beneath the safe cage of his ribs.

So he nodded, because there was no other response he truly wanted to give other than agreement. Well that, and a simple, “Okay.” He was, after all, a man of few words. Although these days Beth seemed to be drawing more and more of them out of him. 

He could feel them bubbling to his lips even now as she smiled up at him and matched his nod with one of her own to repeat, “Okay.” Then, with a widening of her smile and a visible ease in the tension of her body, she went on, “So whatever we do… the most important thing is keeping each other safe. Staying together. Everything else is secondary. Even…”

Beth trailed off as her gaze turned towards the window, to the smoke he knew was there in the distance though they couldn’t see it from this angle. “Even that,” he finished for her lowly. Even the possibility of their friends and family who might or might not be there. Because that was the thing, wasn’t it? Rick, Maggie, and the others… they _might_ have been there. But they might not have been. Beth on the other hand was here, without a doubt, right in front of him.

A few days ago he had almost lost that certainty, had almost lost _her_. He had already promised himself never to let that happen again, so it was easy to promise the same thing aloud to her, especially when she was so determined to do the same.

* * *

At first they spent some time just organizing their supplies, counting out their jars and cans of food and making plans for each day to see how long it might last. But soon he couldn’t help noticing how Beth’s gaze kept straying to the windows. Despite their decision, he knew she was curious. Hell, she was too.

But all it really took was a few minutes looking outside to know they’d made the right choice for now, at least. “There’s at least a half dozen or more of them on this side,” Daryl murmured, pushing aside the sack they’d used as covering to peer out of the dirt-streaked mirror. His gaze picked out each of the walkers moving through the field; a pair of the just below the window each missing an arm, another beyond them in the field with half it’s face gone, several more in the distance but slowly coming closer.

“More of them over here,” Beth murmured, careful to be quiet even though the windows were closed and the old glass was good and thick. Daryl came up slowly behind her, peering over her shoulder into the sunlight field outside her window. There were at least seven or eight walkers currently trundling through the field on this side, all heading to the fire in the distance. They moved with determination, though some of them dragged their feet on the ground and others stumbled or even crawled. He knew there were more in the woods; even now he could see one stepping out in the distance.

There’d be more to come, too. He didn’t know who’d caused the explosion and why, but he wondered if they had considered the ramifications of it. Maybe they had. Maybe it was part of their plan, whoever they were and whatever the original idea had been behind blowing up a place in the middle of the damn end of the world. Maybe they’d had no intention of being anywhere near Terminus- whatever Terminus was- when the explosion brought all the walkers in the area right to it. 

If he was them, he’d have gotten the hell out of dodge, after all. 

“I hope they’re okay.” Beth’s soft murmur broke the silence and he looked down to see a faint furrow in her brow again. “Whoever they are.” 

“If they’re good, anyway,” Daryl remarked lowly, unable to help it. “If they deserve t’ be okay.” Because of her he did believe that there were good people in the world still. There was her, at the very least. But he couldn’t help remembering those cops and what they had wanted to do to her, what they _would_ have done to her had he not stopped them.

Whatever Terminus was, he wouldn’t wish that the people there were okay if they were anything like those men. He’d only hope that they got what was coming to them. Looking out over the trees to the distant smoke, he wondered if maybe that was exactly what happened. Maybe someone had gotten what was coming to them. 

Maybe it was easier to think of that than to consider that it might be their family there at risk. 

What pulled him out of his gradually darkening thoughts was the feeling of Beth slowly leaning back into him bit by bit, until her back rested against his chest lightly but warmly. “If it is them,” she murmured, “If it’s our people… they’ll be okay. They’re survivors, you know? Like us. Even if we knew for sure it was them, going there now would just be… a death wish. It wouldn’t help anyone. Not them, or us.” 

“Are you tryin’ to convince me of that?” Daryl’s hand came to rest very lightly against her hip, hesitantly, as if he were almost afraid to touch her. Or not afraid, just unsure if he had the right. But the moment he did it, he felt her leaning back into him more, even as he asked, “Or yourself?”

Beth hummed at the question and looking down he could see a faint hint of a smile on her lips. “Maybe both of us.” 

He was quiet for a long moment, the two of them just staring out the window, watching the walkers make their slow trundle past on the ground beneath them. When he finally spoke his voice was hesitant, a hint of roughness to the edge of it. “I ain’t gonna tell you it’ll all be alright. Y’ know I ain’t that kinda guy.” She didn’t respond out loud, though her felt her shift back against him and knew she’d heard, knew maybe she understood even if she might not fully agree. “But…” He stumbled a bit over the words, but she was patient. She was always so damn patient with him, even when it took him awhile to find the right thing to say or do. “But you’re right about ‘em bein’ strong. Maybe not as strong as you but they ain’t so bad.” He might not have been able to reassure her, but maybe he could help her relax, anyway.

He felt her laughter before he heard it. The way her shoulders shook right before that little giggle bubbled out her, like sunshine given it’s own sound. Her head tipped back, filling his nose with a whiff of the faintest hint of sweetness that clung to her hair even though it had been so long since they’d washed up, before she tilted her head to look up at him and scoffed, half-playful and half-serious, “Come on. You can’t think I’m as strong as Michonne, or Carol…” 

Both of them could likely hear the echo of old words in that question. _I’m not Michonne, I’m not Maggie, I’m not Carol…_

“You are, just… in your own way.” Again Daryl’s brow furrowed, because Beth’s strength was yet another thing that was hard to explain in words. “You’re strong for hoping. For believin’ in them even now. For even believin’ in your sister when she ain’t believed in you.” He exhaled roughly, and let his other hand rest on her opposite hip and for just a moment it was like he was cradling her. Like that day in the woods after she’d run away from the train tracks and he’d caught up to her and held her, wrapping his arms around her from behind the way she had to him weeks ago.

Only some how this felt even more intimate. Perhaps because it wasn’t so rawly emotional, because neither of them were caught up in the moment and crying. Maybe that was why it reminded him instead of the scent of hay and the warmth of her lips on his just yesterday. Maybe that’s why it felt like more than just a comfort, why it felt so… right.

“It’s like you said the other day,” Daryl cleared his throat and went on after a moment, looking down at her where she had come to rest against his chest, “About being like this mill, about you gettin’ ground up and made finer an’ stronger.”

“Kinda makes it fitting, doesn’t it?” Beth hummed with amusement.

“What?”

“Staying here for now, in the mill. Waiting until I’ve healed, until we’re both stronger before goin’ out there. Sort of like gettin’ ground up a bit more except-” She giggled and he heard that sunshine again. “-less painful.” 

“All in all,” Daryl murmured as he looked over her shoulder again and back out the window. “I’d chose the kinda grindin’ up that involves eating warm meals and readin’ books with you over anything else.” 

“You know what?” He could feel her beneath his palms as she half-turned to look up at him, could feel the slide of clothes over her hips beneath his hands as she moved. The softness of her body even under her clothing was distracting for a few moments before he blinked and focused on her, just in time to see her lips curve up in a smile as she finished, “Me too.” 

He thought in that moment about kissing her again. With her looking up at him, one of his hands on the small of her back and the other on the taut flat of her stomach, and her head tipped back just right… he thought about how easily it would be again to just leaned down and press his lips to hers. He remembered the scent of hay and thought that he had already done it once… couldn’t he do it again? Couldn’t he at least _ask_ her if she wanted him to do it again?

Only before he could, there came a loud bang and thump from beneath them, and they both jumped. In a second instinct kicked in; honed by months and months on the run. They both went tense, pulling upright and shifting quickly to peer out the window. Down below, a walker was slamming itself into the wall, pressing it’s hands to the downstairs windows as it slid around the side of the house. 

He felt Beth shudder, still close to him, and at the same time they both took a step back. “Should stay away from the windows, just in case.” He grunted the words out simply, even though again he felt that protective urge rising in him.

“They can’t… smell us or something, can they? Or hear us?” There was no tremble in Beth’s voice; she was too strong, too brave for that now. But he could see the worry in his eyes and he wanted to reassure her, despite believing he had never been the reassuring type. 

“Dunno,” was unfortunately the best he could manage. But though he had no intention of lying, he felt guilty for not being able to reassure her, so after a moment Daryl went on,“We’ll stay up here, stay quiet. Don’t start a fire unless we have to, after dark. Should be okay as long as we keep our heads down and stay silent. Don’t give anything to draw ‘em to us.” 

“Well.” She clasped her hands in front of her, giving him a smile as sweet as if he’d told her they were about to go for a picnic in the park, or somethin’. Not that he’d even gone to a park really, let alone had a picnic with one.

(And not, of course, that he’d thought about doing that with Beth maybe once or twice, when he imagined them in a better world than this one.) 

Beth’s voice was as sweet as her smile as she easily went on, “I guess it’s time to curl up with another book then, hm? You, me, a blanket, and a book. Sounds like a good day to me.”

It sounded like a perfect day to him, and though he didn’t say as much out loud, there was a hint of a smile on his lips as he followed after her right back to their little mattress, and the stack of books she’d set aside on the floor. 

There might have been thoughts in the back of his mind threatening to weigh him down, coiling as thick and dark as the smoke in the distance that had sparked them. But that was there in the distance, far away over the trees, and Beth was here. She was right here beside him, tucked up against him, and with her melodious voice filling the air he let himself push aside what _might_ come and focus only on her and their new promise. 

Surviving. _Together_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Comments make me smile, and thanks for reading. (Also, feel free to listen to the [Chasing Cars](http://8tracks.com/burnedupasun/chasing-cars) playlist!)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having been hiding out in the mill for several days, Daryl has to risk venturing out to get the water they both need, despite Beth's bad feelings about him leaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this, and I hope it's not a disappointment. My anxiety seems to be manifesting as self-doubt today, so I spent most of the day alternating between disliking different passages of this before deciding they were fine and then moving on to being bothered by another passage. Whoops!

The midday sun glowed through the cracks in the coverings over the windows of the mill, lighting the whole place with a golden shine. In the little beams of light Daryl could see dust filtering through the air, dancing in motes that swirled around Beth as she shifted from side to side in front of him. “I just don’t know,” Beth murmured, darting her gaze from him to the window and back again, her voice thick with worry.“It just seems like too much of a risk is all…”

“Ain’t gonna go far. You’ll barely even notice I’m gone.” The reassuring words rumbled in Daryl’s chest as he spoke them, but right as they sounded, right as he knew they were to say, he was still all off kilter. The fact was that being reassuring at all was new enough for him, and that wasn’t even getting into the way he felt right now, all… unsure. As if her worry was making _him_ worry, and that dual sensation was pretty damn new to him, too.

They were standing on the first floor of the grist mill a few feet away from the door, talking in lowered voices to avoid notice despite the fact that when he’d glanced outside a few moments ago there hadn’t been a single walker in sight. Which of course was why he was down here right now having this conversation in the first place: they needed water, and to get it one of them would have to go outside, and now seemed to be the best time of day to do it.

Their bucket and bottles of water lasted them a little more than three days, getting them at least through the first wave of walkers drawn by the explosion and fire in the distance. It had burned through all three days now, leading both Beth and Daryl to believe that if anyone had survived the explosion, they hadn’t stayed long enough to put out the fire. Unfortunately, the fact that the fire was finding plenty to burn through to keep it fueled meant that it was also continuing to draw more walkers towards it, _especially_ at night when the flicker of flames in the distance was a draw for any walker nearby. 

Ever since the morning of the explosion they had stayed locked up tight on the top floor, keeping as quiet as possible to avoid attracting the notice of the shambling creatures moving past. The truth was Daryl would have been more than content to stay up there with Beth. Their days had already developed a routine from meals to quiet walkthroughs to stretch their legs, and of course reading. They spent most of their time reading; there weren’t many other forms of entertainment. They worked their way through the little stack of books which Beth was now calling their ‘library’, a fact which made him chuckle to himself, not the least of which because it was pretty much the largest number of books he’d ever had in his life. 

Beth had told him once about making memories. How he might not have had any good ones in his past, but he could make them now… and these last couple days, sitting with her at his side as they read through paperback books filled with crime mysteries and action and even a few supernatural creatures far more interesting than walkers… he had felt like he was making memories, just like she’d told him. Making a simple story of his own.

Now, he had to put a stop to that; at least long enough to go venture outside.. He didn’t want to have to leave the safety of the mill (didn’t want to leave _her_ ), but they needed water. They could risk it, wait it out as long as possible… but Daryl didn’t really want to do that. Beth needed to heal, and to heal she needed to be in the best shape possible. That meant food, which they had for now anyway… and water. 

But the longer he stood here in front of her like this the less he wanted to go, even with all the logical reasons laid out in his mind. He didn’t understand how it was she did this to him. How the sight of her staring up at him with her eyes all big and wide and her teeth dimpling the soft flesh of her lip could make him wanna just… take her arm and lead her right back upstairs and promise he wasn’t gonna go anywhere. 

He knew he couldn’t, knew he needed to go get the damn water and that he should go now when it was still light out and there were miraculously no walkers in sight. But lord did he wish she’d stop looking at him like that, as if she could anchor him to her with his damn eyes, hold him here as if it were the only place he wanted or needed to be. 

(Maybe it was. But thinking about that for more than just a few seconds was too much; too confusing, too _deep_ , at least right now.) 

“It’ll be okay,” Daryl said after a moment, gruff but honest even if the reassuring words still felt somehow foreign to him.

“I just got a bad feeling, is all.” Beth cradled her still-injured wrist to her chest, biting down on her lip again as she rocked briefly back onto her heels and then looked up at him. “I know I don’t have to tell you to be careful, but…”

“I will.” That was a guarantee. “Look, the time it’ll take me to get out there, get the water, and come back, will be less time than this conversation took, alright? C’mon, I’m goin’. You keep watch for me out the window, yeah?” 

Try as he might to be firm, there was a reluctance in his movements that Daryl could see reflected in Beth’s own, to the point that he practically growled when he finally pulled himself away from her and grunted, “You stay up on the second floor. Keep watch. I’ll be right back.”

Though he didn’t say the words out loud, when he pulled open the door and glanced back over his shoulder at her, the look was in his eyes: _I promise_.

Then he stepped outside and pulled the door shut behind him. 

Daryl tried to tell himself he didn’t feel a churning in his gut the moment he did it. That he didn’t feel a hint of a sense of dread that had him instantly looking around, worriedly scoping out the tree line to be sure there wasn’t a risk. 

But the truth was he did, and the sensation only lingered as he rounded the side of the structure, bucket in hand, heading towards the little brook that ran alongside the mill.

* * *

Daryl’s stomach wasn’t the only one churning. Beth’s seemed to be twisting itself into knots, and she knew it wasn’t over the hand-canned peaches they’d had for lunch. As she moved quickly up the stairs (or as quickly as she could go with her ankle still a bit sore) to the second floor, Beth tried to pick apart the sensation in her mind to no avail. Was it just worry at Daryl taking a risk? Was it the separation? Was it the fear of being left behind?

Maybe it was all of it. She didn’t know, beyond the fact that her stomach felt all knotted up even as she reached the second floor and began carefully limping towards the window that looked down over the little stream of water. Gently nudging aside the sack cloth covering the window, Beth pressed her hand to the dusty glass and peered down to spot his familiar figure kneeling at the edge of the small brook that had once fed the mill’s water wheel.

The afternoon sunlight glinted on his dark hair and lighted on his furrowed brow as he glanced up towards the window as if trying to spot her. Though she wasn’t sure if the light glinting off the windows might make her invisible, the little wave she gave was met by a nod from Daryl, who immediately went back to work. Knelt beside the water, the dirt leaving stains on his dark pants that would probably only be barely noticeable considering all the other stains long-since acquired, Daryl dipped the bucket into the stream and held it there, allowing it to fill up slowly but surely.

Even as he worked at this simple task he was vigilant, always looking up and all around him, keeping an eye on the lines of the trees to make sure no walkers were approaching. That, more than the simple sight of him, helped Beth to feel more reassured. Daryl was good at what he did, there was no way anything would sneak up on him and catch him unaware while he was out there, right?

But she couldn’t help but worry. Worrying wasn’t new, at least not on it’s own. Beth had been worrying about her family long before the end of the world, and that tendency had deepened especially after the loss of the farm. She’d worried about Maggie and Glenn, worried about her Daddy, worried about Rick and Judith and Carl and Carol and Michonne, and yeah, even Daryl. Even back then. When they’d fled from the prison side-by-side, Daryl had been her only companion and so it was no wonder that her focus shifted almost entirely to him. No wonder that she feared his injury, feared losing him and being left alone to fend for herself.

The truth was it was far more than that. She wasn’t really afraid of him getting hurt because she didn’t want to be left alone. She was worried _for him_. The thought of him getting injured twisted in her gut like the black roots of a tree tightening around her stomach. The thought of _losing_ him was far worse, enough to make her heart ache, enough for the occasional nightmares of it to make her wake up panting for breath, skin clammy and cold, heart racing. 

She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him and it was for so, so much more than just because he was her only company. It was because he was, well… Daryl. It was hard to put into words; or maybe she just wasn’t ready to. Maybe she just wasn’t ready to piece it all together, to view the entirety of the quilt stitched together from all the little pieces. All the little moments that made up the whole; curling up next to him reading a book, the sound of his voice in her ear as he showed her how to use his bow, the sight of him beside her lit by flickering flames as they’d burned down that house or as they’d burned up her old clothes in the fireplace just a few days ago, the knowledge that he had run on foot after her for a whole day to save her, that he’d carried her bodily to safety with arms that should have long since given out.

And of course, that one shining piece of memory; in the barn, lit in a golden light, the press of his lips softly to hers in a kiss. A kiss that was, despite what she might have tried to tell herself, far from meaningless. 

It was a kiss they hadn’t shared again since though it had never once left Beth’s mind. How many times had she looked over at him and thought about doing it again? About bridging the gap between them and brushing her lips over his? The only thing that held her back was, well… him. She feared it in the same sort of way that she feared him getting hurt physically, or even worse dying. She didn’t want to lose him in that way, either, didn’t want to push him away, scare him off, ruin the burgeoning connection between them… whatever it was. Even if it was just friendship. 

Her thoughts raced through her mind, dueling with each other, like two squirrels in the midst of a play-fight, running and leaping and circling all while she stood there up against the window. Lost in her thoughts she almost didn’t notice that Daryl had risen to his feet. On the ground below him the bucket shimmered, filled almost to the brim with water. The sag of the backpack he wore told Beth he’d filled their water bottles too, but for some reason Daryl wasn’t coming inside. 

Instead he was peering off into the distance behind the house, hand shading his brow as he reached behind him to unsling his crossbow. Instantly her heart beat kicked up, her stomach churning in fear. What had he seen? Was it walkers? All her instincts seemed to be on edge, the hair standing up on the back of her neck, and it was all she could do not to pound against the window and shout: _Get inside_!

Glancing up at her in the window, Daryl caught her eyes and gave a reassuring nod before pointing towards the field behind the house. Frankly it wasn’t very reassuring, but she was pretty sure he couldn’t be pointing to any walkers, at least. But it didn’t help her curiosity or her sense of wrongness, so when he began to move Beth followed him, keeping pace along the interior of the mill until she reached one of the back windows and peered outside. It was only then that she spotted what had caught Daryl’s attention.

There, standing amid the long grass in the distance was a good-sized doe. It’s skin looked almost russet-colored in the sunlight, dappled on it’s hindquarters with flecks of white, it’s ear twitching as it went still and looked around it. Beneath her window Daryl stalked closer, bow settled in his arms as he took careful steps to try and avoid making a sound.

Now she understood why he’d been so eager. A doe like that could feed them for days, maybe longer. They wouldn’t be able to cook it the same as they might have considering the risk of staying outside, but they might be able to get some of it in before any walkers came. They could bleed it out in the basement, maybe, rig up something from all the machinery to cook the flesh into jerky, or dry it somehow, or…

Through the glass she heard the faint ‘whizz’ of a bolt being released, and looked up just in time to see the doe go down with Daryl’s bolt lodged perfectly into it’s neck. She almost felt a sense of regret that she’d missed him taking the actual shot. There was just something about watching Daryl lifting his bow, staring down the sight, his muscles shifting as he pulled the trigger…

There was a hint of a flush to Beth’s cheeks as she pulled herself out of her head and reminded herself to _watch_ as Daryl, below her, slung his crossbow back across his back and began to stride towards the deer. He’d need her to keep an eye out if he was going to dress the doe right there in the field, needed her to keep her eyes on the tree line in case anything appeared...

* * *

The sun was warm on his back as he knelt in front of the doe and drew his knife from it’s sheath at his side. He knew that on some level he was taking a risk, even more than he had just coming out here to get water. This hadn’t been part of the plan after all, but it was a risk worth taking all things considered. They could only last so long on canned fruit and beans; meat would do both of them good… especially Beth. Because it was Beth who had been on his mind when he’d spotted that deer; Beth and her injured wrist and leg, Beth who needed water and the best food he could find to keep strong and continue to heal. 

It was Beth who lingered on his mind as he started to field dress the deer, cutting it from it’s sternum right down and exposing the flesh beneath. It was far from the first time he had dressed a deer like this, and the familiarity of the routine actions left his mind free to wander; in this case, back to another similar moment. As he worked to remove the does guts, he remembered sitting in the middle of the woods with Beth looking on as he taught her to dress a rabbit she had killed herself with his bow settled on her deceptively strong arms. She’d been so damn eager to learn, as she seemed to be with everything. Back then his teaching her had been new, and he’d still been surprised each time she seemed so eager, each time she applied herself to the newest lesson without flinching. Like learning to dress a rabbit and ending up with her hands covered in blood, pulling out the rabbits guts as if it were nothing. 

His hands moved with rhythmic smoothness, removing the guts and setting them aside before dipping back into the doe’s stomach for more. In his mind he saw Beth, her hair shining in the sunlight that filtered through the trees above, her eyes bright and focused, her hands washed in red blood as she worked carefully to follow his instructions as the birds chirped in the trees above them, interspersed by the sound of something banged insistently and…

_Wait_. Something banged insistently? 

Daryl’s head lifted and turned, craning over his shoulder to look up at the building, squinting until he spotted the source of the loud banging that was not just in his mind. It was Beth, pressed up against the glass and slamming her fist on the window as she attempted to shout something that he couldn’t hear either through the thick glass or over the distance that stretched between them now. When he furrowed his brow in confusion, she drew back and pointed through the glass, and at the field beyond him.

It was only when he slowly turned that he saw them. Coming out of the woods in the distance, not one or two walkers, not even five but ten, twelve, fifteen, and even more of them visible in the distance through the foliage.

A herd of walkers, and they were coming right towards him.

* * *

Her heart felt like it was going to pound right out of her chest, just as her stomach felt like it was going to fall through her right to her feet at the sight in front of her. Seeing those walkers coming out of the woods, more and more of them by the moment, it had been all Beth could do not to scream in terror. Even then, weighing all the risks that came with making noise, she’d given in. She had to. They were already coming this way, so her banging on the window wouldn’t attract any more attention… and if it might save Daryl, she had to do it. She _had to_. 

Each unanswered pound on the glass had made her stomach twist further and further into knots until finally, Daryl looked up; first at her, and then at the advancing herd.

And it _was_ a herd, there was no doubt of that. Beth could only guess it had been drawn by the explosion days ago, that it had been slowly but inexorably working it’s way closer hour by hour, day by day, until now it was spilling from the lines of the trees and through the field. Maybe it had even come from the ruin of the prison, or maybe instead it was the same herd that had swarmed her family farm, the same herd that had ripped Patricia from her arms as she’d screamed in panic.

The thought only filled her with a deep dread, one that clenched within her and made her sway on her feet before she caught herself, before she forced herself to stay strong.

They were already lurching towards Daryl, drawn by his movements and the blood of the doe spilling across the ground which would only tempt them closer. Not that they needed any more incentive, of course. 

Standing in the window, Beth was torn. Part of her irrationally wanted to leap from the window to help him, part of slightly-more-rationally wanted to hurry to the door and outside, draw her knife and make sure he got back to safety. What she really wished for was a crossbow of her own to prop into the window; at least that way she could help defend him as he made his way back to the Mill.

_If_ he made his way back to the Mill. Because rather than running Daryl was crouched back down, fervently slicing at the doe as if to finish the task as quickly as he could and drag it back with him. 

Beth slammed her hand on the window in a desperate attempt to get him to look back up at her, to get him to _come back inside right now_. But he kept working, picking up the guts and unneeded organs in his hands and tossing them off to the side as far away as he could before bending down to grip the doe and heave it up over his shoulders.

For a few moments she thought he was gonna make it. The walkers had gained on him but some of them had been distracted by the guts he had tossed their way and the blood he had left behind. Bearing the doe over his sturdy shoulders, Daryl strode slowly but purposefully through the swaying grass and back towards the mill, close enough that she was just about to turn and move to the next window to follow him… 

And then he stumbled and fell to the ground.

Beth didn’t think she’d ever seen Daryl Dixon stumble in his whole life, then again she also had never seen him carrying an entire deer over his shoulders while working his way through tall grass with a herd of walkers in his wake. The same herd of walkers that were gaining on him now, reaching with outstretched arms and yawning their bloodied, gorey mouths to snap their jaws at the sight of the feast ahead of them.

“Daryl!” Beth slammed her hand on the window desperately, but there was nothing she could do… not from here. 

And in that moment she didn’t care that she was injured, didn’t care that she couldn’t run without limping or that her wrist was still healing. All she cared was that Daryl was out there on the ground, pinned beneath a deer carcass, with a herd of hungry walkers gaining towards.

With his name on her lips Beth turned and ran for the stairs.

* * *

_Idiot_. He was a fucking idiot. He didn’t know why he’d done it. There was just something about Beth Greene that drove him to take desperate measures, that convinced him to burn down perfectly good shelters and run for hours just to try and save her, and, it seemed, to almost risk his safety just to make sure she had some damn venison to eat. 

And now here he was on the ground with a deer carcass on top of him and herd of fucking walkers heading right towards him. Next time that Beth said she had a bad feeling, he was gonna damn well _listen_. Maybe then he could avoid getting himself into another situation like this. Not that he was panicking, of course. Daryl Dixon didn’t panic. 

(Never mind that he had been something close to panic when he’d lost Beth back at the funeral home, when he’d seen that car driving off and known she was in the back of it, known that he might have just lost her. Never mind that he feels something like that now at the thought of getting taken down, leaving her alone in the middle of a goddamn herd without him to have her back.)

His mind filled with the thought of Beth standing in that window watching him right now, Daryl heaved with all his might and shoved the doe off of him and to the side, allowing him to scramble quickly to his feet. He barely had time to glance behind him to where the walkers were gaining on him inch by inch and he knew he had no time; no time to pick the doe up again, no time to try to carry it back towards the house, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. 

With a growl that rumbled in his chest, Daryl drew his knife, leaned down, and dug it into the deer’s shoulder. This was far from the right time, but he wasn’t gonna go back with nothing to show for this idiocy. Knowing the shoulders were one of the easiest things to remove and that there’d still be some meat for them to eat he worked quickly, sliding his blade in to cut the muscles that connected them to the chest and drawing his blade slowly up. Normally he’d have skinned the deer first but there wasn’t much he could do about that. The walkers were gaining. 

A couple twists of the knife and his arm and he popped it loose from the joint and tore it free. Just as he came up with the leg clasped in his hand, a walker stumbled towards him with a snarl on it’s lips. Daryl acted instinctively, jabbing forward to stab his blade right into the walker’s eye. As he pulled it free, he thought dimly that it was a good damn thing he’d already cut the deer, he couldn’t use the knife to do that now. 

But it wasn’t the time for thinking about anything except getting away. Behind him the walkers were falling on the carcass of the doe with grunts and snarls, but more and more of them were coming and the deer wouldn’t prove a distraction long enough. Daryl ran, clutching the doe’s leg in one hand, his backpack and his crossbow bouncing against his back. He stopped only long enough to grab the bucket of water, grunting at the weight of it as his pace slowed to stop the water from spilling free.

With walkers right on his heels, Daryl rounded the corner with a gasp… and came face to face with an open door and Beth Greene standing in it, knife raised and about to swing down on him.

“Damn it, Greene! Get inside. _Now_!”

* * *

Beth would have punched him right then and there except she could hear the walkers on his tail, could hear the rumbles and snarls just feet away around the edge of the building and now so wasn’t the time to do anything but exactly what he’d said, and _fast_.

Gasping she whirled around and stumbled inside, turning just in time to hear the clunk of the bucket as he set it on the ground, followed by the click of the door pressing shut-- slowly, despite the advancing walkers, because Beth knew he didn’t want to risk drawing any more of them towards the door by slamming it shut.

Not that it mattered. The walkers had seen him, they could smell the blood of the leg he carried in his hand. Soon the mill was filled with the sounds of rotted hands slapping on the wooden door, groans filtering through the windows as they passed by, dragging their bodies against the vine-entangled walls. 

Beth rushed forward to help Daryl at the door, barring the door and then dragging the table back over to wedge it against the frame and block it. The pounding didn’t cease, but the door didn’t move, and Beth was pretty sure they’d be okay. She wanted to be certain though and she knew she wasn’t the only one. Daryl set down his bag and the haunch of meat on the steps and then indicated that they should check out both sides of the Mill with just a grunt and a gesture rather than words. They covered the whole floor at the same time, Beth to the right and Daryl to the left, each of them checking the covered windows and barricading any that looked like they might not hold up somehow. 

It was only when they met in the middle in front of the stairs that Beth, certain they were as safe as they could be for the moment, finally snapped.

“What were you _thinking_?” She hissed, knowing better than to scream even if it was boiling up inside of her. Even if she was every inch of her frightened and furious at the risk he’d put himself in out there. She could have hit him and if he’d been anyone else she might have. The only thing that held her back was what she knew about his past, about his father, about what the man may or may not have done to turn Daryl into the kinda man that could flinch even at simple touches.

So she didn’t hit him though lord if she didn’t want to, right then. Instead she curled her fingers into his shirt so tightly that her knuckles went white as she leaned up on her toes and looked right into his eyes to growl, “You could have gotten yourself _killed_ , Daryl Dixon!”

“Was just…” He blinked down at her, a sea of emotion in his deep blue eyes but one- bafflement, maybe, as if he were taken back by the depth of her emotion right now- coming to the forefront as he said surprisingly simply, “Just wanted to get you somethin’ good to eat. Somethin’ better’n canned food so… so you could heal faster.”

So that was it. He’d nearly terrified her to death, he’d put himself at risk of a herd of walkers… for her. So she’d have something to eat. Because he had wanted to get that doe for _her_.

And really, Beth didn’t know how to respond to that with words, so she did the only thing that came to mind, the only thing that seemed natural and right in the heat of the moment. She leaned up on her toes and pressed her lips to his. 

If the kiss started hesitant, it didn’t last that long. Just long enough for the tension to ease from Daryl’s body and for his hands to come up and press right against her lower back. As soon as she knew he was okay with this Beth gave in, pressing her lips hard to his, pouring into it all the anxiety she’d felt when he’d been out there so close to that goddamn herd, so close to death, so close to her losing him that her heart had already felt like it was breaking.

When she pulled back, Beth was breathless and panting and her eyes were dark and plaintive as she looked up at him. Fingers still curled into his shirt as his spanned her slender back, Beth gasped out, “Don’t you ever do that again, okay?” She took a step closer, just one, just enough to feel the warmth of his body against her own. “I was so _scared_.”

He didn’t apologize. Beth wasn’t sure it was in him to apologize yet, at least not out loud. She could see it in his eyes; his regret maybe not at the risk, but having terrified her the way he had. She could see it in his movements too, as he hunched up his shoulders, even as he reluctantly took a step back and let his hands fall to the side.

“Still plenty to be worried about,” Daryl grunted. His eyes lingered on her lips and Beth _knew_ he was thinking about that kiss, knew he wanted to kiss her again. But Daryl… awkward yet practical, went on gruffly instead, “Got a herd full of walkers outside. Now we’re _really_ trapped.” 

If she hadn’t been so suddenly focused on that worrying statement, she might have given thought to the fact that he was so damn fixated on keeping her safe and protected, as if he’d made it his life mission or something to make sure she was safe.

She had no way of knowing that was exactly what he’d done, the moment he’d almost lost her to the black car with the white cross on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for your continued readership. I will do my best to update this again soon. Comments are always loved and I will do my best to reply to them all if I can!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surrounded by a herd of walkers, Daryl and Beth settle down for the night in the old grist mill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really, really happy with this chapter. I hope you guys like it as much as I do. Some notes about the content at the end, for now just read on!

“You know…” Beth’s voice rose softly from the corner of the room, making him turn slowly to look at her. “When I said we should focus on the two of us, I didn’t exactly mean either one of us putting our lives at _risk_ for the other.” She gave him a sidelong look, and though her eyes were serious he could see her tongue poking from the corner of her mouth as she added, “I mean, I’m just saying.”

They were up on the third floor again settling back in for what seemed like it was gonna be at least another few days without any chance of getting safely out. At least they had a safe, secure place to stay, and thankfully he’d gotten the bucket of water filled for them; it was sitting on the small table now with the collection of water bottles he’d managed to fill as well. Daryl himself was sitting on the floor by the small stove, using Beth’s clean knife to skin the deer leg before stripping off the meat. 

He knew she was only half scolding him; the little hint of her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth was sign enough of that. But Daryl still felt guilt churning low in his stomach. because wasn’t that what he’d done? He’d gone and risked his damn life out there to get her that deer, when he should have been focusing on getting back inside. To _her_. Hadn’t he even told her, a few days ago back at that farmhouse, that the two of them living was more important than anything? Yet it seemed like he’d forgotten it in the heat of the moment. Like a damn idiot with a one track mind, a one-way street pointing right towards Beth. 

He grew awkward again, running his hands through his hair as he shifted in place with a shrug of his shoulders as he grunted back at her, “Just wanted to get you that deer. You need t’ eat.” Even saying it made the tips of his ears burn, not because he knew now that it was a flimsy excuse, but because of what had just happened the last time he’d said it. Kneeling by the stove and looking up at her now where she stood framed in the window, all he could think about was the way she’d leaned in, the way she’d pressed her lips to his and made his damn head spin with that kiss.

Hell, Daryl was pretty sure that head spinning was all tied up in why he’d taken such a risk out there, a risk he regretted now even if it had lead to, well.... to the press of her lips against his and the feeling of her warm back beneath the span of his hands. 

Now she was standing there staring at him from across the room, though not in a bad way. She wasn’t glaring or anything, wasn’t narrowing her eyes at him or looking at all judgemental, no… Instead, she had this slight tilt to her head that was familiar to him by now. It was the tilt she got when she was studying something, be it a person or a set of tracks on the ground. It was a tilt that made her look like a little bird to him. A sweet little bird with big, knowing blue eyes.

( _Songbird_ , a voice in his mind whispered, remembering the sweetness of her voice. Yeah, that was about right.) 

“Just so you know,” Beth remarked, pushing off the wall and leaving the window behind to cross the floor towards him in measured, careful steps. “Food is great and all, but…” She crouched on her haunches in front of him, looking down at the deer leg and then back up at him, her blue eyes fixing on him as if pinning him in place; not painfully but softly and gently and knowingly, just like her voice as she went on, “I need _you_ more than I need food, Daryl.” 

In truth, Daryl didn’t think he’d ever been needed. At least not in the way he thought Beth meant. Sure, they’d needed him back at the prison. Needed him to go on runs, needed him to fetch food, needed him to protect them. They’d needed him the same way you needed an object, though, something that had a use to you. Like people back before all this needed a grocery store, or whatever. Because it was there and it was convenient and it could get you what you needed.

But Beth… when she said he needed him, Daryl knew she meant far more than that. She didn’t need him because he could get her food or because he was good with his bow. She needed his company, needed him at her side, needed his… partnership.

_That_ was a way he’d never been needed before, and it made him reel a bit to realize not only that, but how much it meant to him. How much it mattered to be needed by someone for who you were, not just what you could do.

It was so immensely important that realizing it was almost too intense.

So maybe all he could do just then was duck his head and grunt in reply, but Beth didn’t seem to mind. She just smiled faintly at the corners of her lips, and looked down at the haunch of deer leg to say, “C’mon, why don’t you teach me how to help you skin and cut this? Might as well make something extra good for dinner, since you risked your life for it…”

* * *

A little over an hour later they were both leaning back in their chairs at the small table and Daryl watched with a wry little smile as Beth rubbed her hand across her belly and sighed. “Okay,” she murmured, watching him through slitted eyes with a faint smile of her own, “So maybe it was _almost_ worth the risk to have some meat again. Maybe. But only almost, okay? I don’t want you getting any ideas.” 

With a low chuckle, Daryl just shook his head. He’d learned his lesson, at least when it came to this, when it came to taking the kind of risks that might separate them the way they’d almost been separated once already back at that funeral home. He should have thought of that then, out with that herd of walkers almost on him. Should have remembered his terror, the way he’d cried out her name, the way he’d chased after her, pounding feet on the pavement in pursuit of that car, in pursuit of the fear that he’d lost her. 

He remembered it now, though. He wouldn’t forget anymore. 

Thinking it was one thing but putting it into words was another, and that was something Daryl tended to be complete shit at. Maybe some of it showed in his eyes even as he just watched her from across the table, because after a moment Beth leaned in and reached out to rest her hand lightly over his. It was only a moment. Just enough for him to feel the warmth of her hand, to notice yet again how tiny it was compared to his own as her fingers overlayed his, and to feel reassured by the look in her eyes and the faint smile on her lips. 

Then she pulled back, and with another sigh she rose to her feet and crossed to the window. He didn’t have to follow her to know what she was looking at. The groans of the dead echoed through the glass and through the chinks in the wooden walls. They surrounded the Mill, pressing in vain at the walls and doors in their attempt to get inside. Eventually the fire in the distance might call to them again, but not yet. Maybe not till the sun set and the fire caught their attention.

For now they remained, surrounded on all sides as if the walkers were a sea and the mill was a tiny island of safety in the middle of it where he and Beth might have been stranded but were also kept safe.

“Come on,” he murmured, pushing to his feet as well. “Watchin’ ‘em ain’t gonna do you no good, girl. Ain’t you ever heard that saying about a watched pot?” 

“Yeah.” After a moment she turned her head to look at him and he was struck for a moment by the way the sun coming through the dusty glass seemed to gild her hair and the line of her jaw, turning her into an image of an angel before she offered him a faint smile that shifted his focus. “A watched pot never boils, right? My mama used to say that.”

“Mm.” His too, come to think of it. She’d had a lot of sayings, some of them all her own, and a good half of them used to rationalize the sort of things that went on in their home... But he didn’t like talking much about his Ma.

“Though I’m not exactly waiting for them to boil.” Beth glanced out the window one last time and then, with a chuckle, let the cloth cover it, “I guess that phrase sounds better than, what… a watched herd of walkers never moves on?” 

Daryl smirked. “A watched herd never vanishes?”

“A watched walker never… wanders?” The attempted alliteration made Beth giggle and just like that, Daryl saw the worry ease from her face again, saw the tension melt away to be replaced by a hint of that familiar sparkle in her eyes. 

Trying as best he could not to remember the way she’d looked after that kiss (flushed and breathless, with a darkness in her eyes and her lips just the slightest bit swollen) he reached out and nudged her arm with the back of his hand before letting it fall to his side. “C’mon,” he remarked gruffly. “Let’s do another check thru, make sure this place is secure. Then maybe we can give that book we started last night another try,”

* * *

For the last day or so things had been quiet enough that they hadn’t needed to keep such a strict watch at night, and Daryl had felt comfortable with both of them drifting off to sleep together; usually side-by-side or with Beth laying down on the small mattress while he stretched out on his back beside her. 

Tonight with the herd outside surrounding them, he thought it was best to revert to their usual watch schedule and as always he’d insisted on taking first shift, sitting up with his back to the wall a short distance from the iron stove, just enough to feel the warmth from the banked fire. Beth was laying on the mattress in front of him, curled beneath one of their blankets where she was safe to fall asleep and get some rest after what he knew had been a trying day.

The problem was that she wasn’t. Sleeping, that is. 

He could tell she wasn’t, of course. It had been just the two of them for a good while now, long enough that Daryl had long since memorized the patterns of her breathing. He knew the rise and fall of her back and chest and how it would slow as she fell asleep, or the movements of her body and how she would end up on her side curled up a little and gradually stop fidgeting until she stilled, and remained there for most of the hours that she slept. 

Her knew she wasn’t sleep now because for one thing, her breathing wasn’t slow enough. For another she kept moving; first from side to side and then settling on her back to stare up at the ceiling.

He wondered if something was plaguing her thoughts but if it was, he didn’t have to think too hard to figure it out. The herd was still all around them-- perhaps some of them had been lured by the flicker of the fire in the distance, but not all, not by far. Their hands slapped on the outer walls or the front doors, and through the cracks in the wood and the thin glass of the windows their moans and groans filtered in.

The sounds of the dead echoed through the old mill, filling the cold air as if they were the hands of the walkers themselves reaching in to try and grasp at them in the darkness. 

“Where do you think they came from?” Her voice, coming as it did unexpectedly in the midst of all those groans, would have made him jump if he hadn’t just been watching her. As it was, it took him a moment to focus and before he could say anything in response Beth went on, “What if they’re the same herd that overran the farm? Or what if…” He watched as she swallowed hard; even in the darkness lit only by the faint glow of the moon through the windows he could see the faint jump of the muscles in her throat before she went on in a hoarse whisper, “What if they’re from the prison. What if… what if the people we knew…” 

“Beth.” His voice was low, a combination of warning and reassurance at the same time though it didn’t seem to stop her.

“What if they’re out there right now?” Her voice seemed to rise in pitch with each word she spit out, “Sliding their hands on the walls, trying to curl their fingers through the boards. What if Michonne is out there or- or Tyreese, or- or _Rick_ , what if we look outside tomorrow and-”

Even before she broke off with a choked sound, Daryl knew he needed to stop her, knew she was getting too worked up and too upset. Before she’d even cut off on that last word he was leaning forward onto his knees and reaching for her where she was laying there, staring up at the ceiling.

She was shivering. He realized that as he leaned over her and curled her fingers around her arm and felt it trembling in his grasp. His stomach churned and for a moment he felt like going out there with his bow and his knife, killing every last walker that surrounded them just so she could sleep tonight. “C’mon,” he murmured lowly instead, knowing what was most important right now was being there for her, “Layin’ there ain’t helpin’ and you’re not gettin’ any sleep. C’mere and sit beside me, alright? It’ll be okay.” 

For now at least she moved without protest and in a way that only upset him more. That distance in her eyes and the dullness of her movements reminded him too much of how broken she had been in the days after the prison and after the train tracks when they’d found the bodies of the children. Like something had broken or died inside of her. This wasn’t a full relapse, but it was verging on a minor one and the last thing he wanted was to let her sink into despair.

Daryl guided her up, bringing one of her blankets with them and carefully helping her until she was leaning against the wall beside him, closer to the stove and the warmth of it’s banked fire. “Here,” he murmured, wrapping her up first in the blanket and then when her shivering didn’t subside, letting his arm drape carefully over her shoulders. His movements were hesitant and his arm practically hovered there for a few moments until he sensed from the relaxing of her body that she welcomed the touch. Only then did he let the weight of his arm settle across her thin, shivering shoulders.

“S’alright,” he murmured softly, feeling his own relief as the tension in her body eased and she leaned slowly against him a bit. Only when he’d felt her shivering begin to slow did Daryl go on, “If it helps, I don’t think they were coming from either of those places.” When he felt her tilt her head to look up at him, he asked softly, “Picture it in your head. What direction were they comin’ from, out of the woods?” 

Beth was quiet for only a moment, and when he turned just enough to look down into her upturned face he could see the thoughts playing across it and the gears turning in her head as she remembered both the scene and what he’d taught her of directions. “The sun was setting to… to my left, which is the West and so… they were coming from the North East?”

“Right,” Daryl exhaled softly. Looking down at her gave him the strangest urges. He gave in to one of them and let his fingers smooth over the back of her hair, but resisted the other urge, the one that told him to lean in and kiss her forehead. With a faint grunt he went on instead, “An’ what direction is the prison? What direction did we come from?” It was the same direction those cops had been taking her, though he didn’t figure it was back towards the prison. Maybe towards Atlanta beyond, or somewhere near it. He figured you’d have to be an idiot to try for Atlanta these days; or any city, for that matter. 

“The prison is North.” She paused, and amended, “North Northwest, anyway. Right?” 

Daryl just nodded, still looking down into her eyes as his fingers carded lightly through her hair. “Exactly. Which means they ain’t comin’ from there, yeah? Not the farm either, that’s Northwest from here. So don’t worry too much ‘bout that, alright?” 

The expression she gave him was more a flicker at the corners of her lips than a smile but he’d take it. He’d take anything that was better than her shivering against him, talking in that scared voice that was rarer and rarer to hear from her these days and as such, far more upsetting. 

Now thankfully she was settling against him instead, resting her cheek against his shoulder and breathing slowly in and out. He let his hand settle back onto her shoulder too, his thumb shifting to graze lightly back and forth over the curve of it through her shirt, only dimly aware that the gentle touch was causing her to relax into him even more. 

He was more aware, in some part of his mind, of how unusual this was for him. Or would have been, before her anyway. He’d never been one for touch; not surprising considering everything he had been though. Yet somehow it seemed normal to be here like this with her, snug and close and giving her that reassuring touch as they sat in silence.

Well, almost silence anyway. Because the groans of the undead around them hadn’t stopped, and when the two of them fell silent they only seemed to echo louder through the rafters and the open, empty space. 

“I can’t stand that sound,” she whispered with her cheek still resting right against the leather of his vest. “When it’s just a few of them it’s different, you know? But this… this is even worse than the prison. At least then they were out by the fences, and when you were deep inside you couldn’t hear them. You could sleep. Now it’s like they’re all around me, like they’re in my head or something.”

He didn’t even need to hear the change in the pitch of her voice to know she was getting upset again, he could feel the tension in her body and the tightening in her shoulders. He’d have offered to grab the book they were reading and finish it off perhaps, allowing his words to fill the silence. This one was a newer book, one they’d found back at that farmhouse before the herd had come. Some action type thing with a former marine who travelled around the country without settling, always moving, usually with only the clothes on his back. Beth said he reminded her of Daryl, though Daryl had retorted that he certainly never helped uncover government conspiracies or foil murder plots or any shit like that.

Anyway, they couldn’t read right now. With the herd around them, none of them wanted to risk more than a banked fire safely inside the stove. Lighting even a candle might cause a flicker of light to be seen outside, and they didn’t want to risk encouraging the herd to stay any longer than it already had.

Of course, that didn’t mean he couldn’t tell stories of his own. He’d told her before he didn’t have many, and that was true, but he did have some. Maybe they weren’t the kinda stories she had, but they were his nonetheless. 

So he cleared his throat, and as his thumb brushed across her shoulder one more time Daryl murmured, “I ever tell you about how Merle tried to join th’ army once?” The story was the first to jump to his mind, perhaps because of the book they’d been reading earlier. 

“No…” Beth tilted her head again and looked up at him, and he was encouraged to see a look of curiosity on her face as she asked in a voice already far more relaxed than it had been a moment ago, “Tell me?” 

“Ain’t much, but it’s, well… very Merle.” He chuckled at the thought and leaned back against the wall. One arm stayed draped around Beth’s shoulder, but the other rested across his knee and his hand dangled loosely between his legs as he said, “He joined up when I was still livin’ at home. Might’ve been a good deal for him, in some ways. He was strong and observant and good with weapons. But he was Merle, y’know? Headstrong and short-fused. Wouldn’t take shit from no one. Don’t know what possessed him t’ think he could take get by in a place where he’d have t’ take orders all th’ time. Turns out he couldn’t, anyway.” 

Daryl shifted a bit in place, clearing his throat before he went on with a hint of a smile, “Got into an argument with a sergeant. Riled the guy up, called him somethin’ offensive, I dunno. He told me the story a dozen times or more, but he was always drunk so it changed a lot. But I remember him always sayin’ he kept goadin’ the guy to take it up the chain of command, basically sayin’ he couldn’t handle it himself, you know? Tryin’ to get the man to snap.”

“And did he?” Beth’s voice was breathy with curiosity beside him. 

“Oh yeah. Guy took a swing, and Merle wades right in, punches out his front teeth.” Daryl shook his head as Beth gasped beside him, but when he looked down she was covering her mouth as if to hide her laughter.

“What happened then??”

“Got dishonorably discharged, then they court-martialled him. Went to prison for sixteen months.” Daryl shook his head again, slower this time, and though there was a faint smile on his lips his shoulders hunched a bit. “Weren’t the first time he went to jail, anyway. Not the last, either. Was close to the longest, though, I reckon.”

Beth was quiet for a moment, mulling over the story with a hum. “Sounds like Merle,” she said after a moment. He knew of course that she hadn’t known the man well, but she’d know him somewhat from the time Merle had been at the prison. 

“You know, I reckon he liked you, much as Merle could like anyone.” Daryl looked down at her with a faint smile. “He told me about you shootin’ that gun at the ceiling when he was fightin’ with Glenn, after I got back with Rick.” Daryl gave a low chuckle that rumbled in his chest. “Said you had fire, an’ he liked it.” Course he’d also said some other inappropriate things that Daryl wasn’t gonna repeat, although the words echoed in a whisper through his mind, all: _sweet piece, that one, nice little handful I bet._

At least telling her that one bit was enough to get her smiling, and the smile lingered on her face as she asked him, “Did you ever think about joining the army?” 

“Nah. Knew it wasn’t for me. Might not’ve punched someone like Merle did, but I wouldn’t have liked it either. Goin’ wherever someone told me to, doin’ what they said without knowing why… would’ve rubbed me the wrong way. Plus, by the time I was old enough…” He shrugged. “Was with Merle, then. Things I did with him, probably not th’ kind of guy the army would’ve taken.” 

This time she was the one who shifted beside him, turning a little bit to face him and furrowing her brow. “What do you mean by that?” 

“Uh uh.” He grunted, but to make sure she knew he wasn’t annoyed or nothing, he nudged her a bit with his side and brushed his fingers over her shoulder as he added, “Your turn to tell me a story first, Greene.”

There it was again, that little bird-like head tilt, accompanied by those studious, knowing eyes but this time a hint of a smile as well. “Then you’ll tell me another story?”

“If you want.” For her he would anyway. He ain’t never felt like sharing much of his past with anyone, but it always seemed easier with her. 

“Alright.” She bit her lip and picked at the cuff on the sleeve of her flannel shirt. “Well… what did you want to know? I mean, did you want me to just pick a random story, or did you want to ask me something?” 

That took a bit of thinking, but not too long. Daryl turned the wrist of his free hand and scratched at the side of his knee as he thought, but when the question popped into his head he just hummed. “You asked me ‘bout the army an’ all, so what about you?” He turned to look at her, his thumb absentmindedly grazing her shoulder, rubbing across the soft flannel. “What did you wanna do after school, y’know… if you’d made it, or whatever?” 

“I dunno…” Her voice trailed off but she looked up at him with a faint smile. “I know that sounds like a cop-out, but I honestly don’t. I know adults act like you’re just supposed to _know_ , but I’ve always kinda thought that’s a bit ridiculous, you know? To expect kids to know at fifteen and sixteen and seventeen what they wanna spend their whole lives doing?” 

The funny thing was, he did get it, but only sort of. Because no one had ever expected anything from him like that. No one had ever asked him what he wanted to do when he grew up. They’d already known, or at least they’d assumed. Because he was a Dixon.

As he watched, Beth shifted beneath his arm to curve into him again and her hand rested lightly on his knee, tracing shapes against his jeans as she went on, “I always thought… maybe I’d do something in music? For awhile I wanted to work with animals too. I mean my Dad was a vet and I always liked helping him.” She wrinkled her nose a bit and then sighed. “Either way I wanted to go to school at the very least. Somewhere close enough to visit if I wanted, but far enough that I could be on my own for the first time, you know? Live in a dorm, have fun with my friends, try some classes out until I figured out what suited me? But I never got to even finish my junior year, so…” 

Then she looked up at him again and the smile on her lips lit up her eyes as she teased, “But hey, I do go to Daryl Dixon University now, remember?”

With a snort and a little shake of his head, Daryl remarked, “Ain’t much of a University.”

“Hey, don’t know it. It’s my number one choice of school-” She reached up and pressed her finger to his lips as she quickly added, “And don’t you say it’s my only choice, Mr. Dixon!”

If he froze, it wasn’t just because that was exactly what he’d been about to say before she’d told him to stop. No, he stopped because of her finger pressed to his lips like this, so soft and warm. He was suddenly very aware of her closeness and the way her body felt tucked against his side, and how her eyes looked so big as they stared into his from her face such a short distance from his own. 

He was aware yet again that he wanted to kiss her and this time, despite the fact that she had been the one to initiate it both times, he very nearly did. Nearly, anyway. 

When she finally drew back her finger her movement was slow, and he couldn’t seem to help reading a bit of hesitancy into it. Maybe it was just in his imagination, but he was almost certain that he could see the same warmth in her eyes that he felt filling every inch of him right now, as if the warmth of her body was spreading into him, through his veins, and pooling low in his stomach. 

(He couldn’t help but think that maybe he _should_ have kissed her. Maybe she’d wanted him to.)

Daryl cleared his throat, nervous and unsure all of the sudden until Beth just gave him one of those sweet, disarming smiles that had him forgetting for a moment was he was so confused about. “Your turn,” she murmured. When he blinked at her, completely dazed and frankly still feeling the warmth of her finger on his lips, Beth giggled and added, “It’s your turn to tell a story or answer a question or whatever, Mr. Dixon. And I think you promised to tell me about being with Merle, and why you wouldn’t be the kind of guy the army wanted.” 

(That was another thing he wasn’t sure about; her calling him _Mr. Dixon_. ‘Cause lord knew it did things to him it probably shouldn’t have.) 

He shifted in place, and if his fingers curled a bit more firmly over her round shoulder to tug her back into his side, it happened so casually that he wasn’t even fully aware of it. “Ain’t a very good story.” In all honesty, it wasn’t the kind of story he wanted to tell Beth at all. Of course she already knew some of his past, knew from the night they’d gotten drunk on moonshine some of what he and Merle had been into. But she didn’t know all of it, and there was so much in there he was ashamed of, so much of it that was dark and black and not fit for the likes of her. 

Yet those big blue eyes, sweet and kind in a way that reflected of just why he didn’t want to tell her in the first place, also managed to pull things like this right out of him regardless. “Merle ran a biker gang, for awhile. The, uh… Savage Sons Motorcycle Club.”

“Savage Sons?” Beth raised an eyebrow, and the hint of amusement he saw on her face made Daryl chuckle.

“Hey I didn’t name it. Merle did.” After a moment, he shrugged. “Was like I told you before, that was what I did… drifting around with Merle, doing whatever he said. For awhile it was that, the Sons. Riding bikes…” He shifted in place and swallowed hard. “Sellin’ drugs. Stuff like that.” 

His gaze stayed fixed ahead at the opening to the staircase leading down. All around them the sounds of the undead echoed through the air in drawn-out groans and heavy moans, but all Daryl heard was Beth’s voice echoing through his mind. _I’ve never been in jail._ Was she gonna say something like that now? Was she gonna ask him if he’d ever dealt drugs, or done them himself? 

Daryl should have known to give her more credit than that. She hadn’t really been in the wrong that night, asking him something like that. She hadn’t known, after all. But even still Beth had changed since then; had grown and learned, not just about the world but about him. So he really shouldn’t have been surprised when he heard her softly ask beside him, “Did you have your own bike back then?” 

Sitting as he was all hunched down and unwilling to look at her (although his arm never once left her shoulder), it was obvious how the question affected him. He sat up a bit straighter, turned to look at her with an amused quirk to the corner of his lips as he studied her face, his blue eyes peering into her own for a long moment before he responded, “Yeah. Lost it though. The day everything went to shit I had my truck. Went to find Merle at the bar he was at and that was it. Left the bike back where we were staying and never saw it again. Had Merle’s bike for a bit, you know that, and then…”

He shrugged. She knew what had happened to Merle’s bike, knew it had been left behind in the ruin of the prison that had once been their home. Which was why he was so confused for a moment when she responded hesitantly, “Maybe we could go get it.” He blinked at her, brow knit together until she blushed faintly in the dim light and said, “Your bike, I mean. The one you left wherever you were staying, before things went… well, before all this.” She swallowed, and then it was her turn to duck her head a little, almost shy as she admitted, “I’ve never ridden a motorcycle before. A tractor, sure, but never a bike. I always kinda wanted too, though.” 

He’d been all set on saying no. It wasn’t exactly in the direction they were going, and besides… he wasn’t sure if he wanted to go back to that. To the motel he’d been staying in, to that crappy little town, to the bike that might or might not have even been there. The bike that sure, he’d put a shit ton of work into, the bike he’d _loved_... but the bike that was, despite all that, a remnant of his past. A person he no longer was anymore.

But then she had to go and mention that she’d never ridden a bike before, and now instead of thinking about all that, all he could think about was Beth on the back of his bike with her arms wrapped around his waist and her hair blowing back in the wind. Would she hate it, or love it? A year ago he never would have pictured little Beth Greene as the type to love riding a bike but now? Yeah, he could see it. Could almost feel it, too, the warmth of her arms around his waist and the weight of her against his back, and the way she’d maybe laugh as he throttled the bike… 

Suddenly he cleared his throat. His attempt to chase away the images from his mind, though, was rather like blowing away a cloud of smoke… the smoke dissipated but the scent of it lingered, just as little hints of those images lingered in the corners of his mind. So in the end when he looked down at her, all he could think to say was a simple, “Maybe.” And when she smiled, looking far too eager all things considered, he added warningly, “We’ll see, alright? Gotta wait this out first, and go check out that fire when we can…”

The expression on her face faltered, and Daryl knew he’d taken a misstep. The last thing she needed right now was to be reminded of the herd all around them, let alone whatever waited in the distance for them in those burning remains of a place that might hold answers about their family… about her sister, who had given up faith in her. 

“Be good to have a bike again though,” he said after a second, his gaze lingering on her faze until he saw her perk up again. “Ain’t makin’ any promises, but it’s not the worst idea, alright?”

It seemed like it was enough for her, for now anyway, judging by the way she relaxed against him and murmured with a faint smile, “Alright, Daryl.” 

With a hum he let his thumb brush over her shoulder again, the silence lingering for a couple moments before he softly said, “You should get some rest. Think you can, now?” 

Beth hesitated for just a few seconds, and he didn’t fail to notice that hint of shyness in her voice as she asked, “Maybe… if I can stay here, with you. If you don’t mind…” 

It was like she was afraid he might say no. As if she was unsure as he was about all this between them, about all these changes and what they might mean. Oddly enough, that only made him feel more comfortable, even if it was just for now. That feeling of comfort was enough for him to nod in agreement, enough for him to shift his hand up to cradle her head and guide it to his shoulder as he murmured, “Go on. Get some rest.”

It was enough for him to sit there, too, forgetting the groans of the dead around them in favor of the sound of Beth’s breaths gradually slowing as she eased from consciousness and fell asleep, her body curled against his, her cheek pillowed against his shoulder, and her hand resting lightly against his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) The book series Daryl and Beth are reading is the Jack Reacher series by Lee Pace. Yes they did a movie based on one of them. No, I do not actually acknowledge it's existence because Tom Cruise is a HORRIBLE Reacher. HORRIBLE. However I totally think Daryl would love the books.
> 
> 2) The background/history about Merle/the army/the bike gang is a combo of show canon, stuff discussed after the fact (on talking dead, according to Merle's wiki), and some background given in the "Survival Instinct" game which I sort of edited a bit to fit how I see the Dixons. 
> 
> 3) I have a good chunk of the upcoming story planned on now and I'm very excited about it!
> 
> Anyway I think that's all my notes on this chapter. I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did writing and editing it. I am as always grateful to everyone who keeps reading this story, I love all the comments you leave me, so feel free to let me know what you thought of this chapter!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the area around the mill finally clear of the herd, Beth and Daryl take the chance to stretch their legs and get out of the mill for a bit to explore their surroundings a little more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative summary for this chapter: Beth and Daryl just deserve some damn cute fluff, so HERE IT IS.
> 
> Sorry for the delay in getting this up. I had some plan to make this week an attempt to update more frequently, if not daily than every other day, but no guarantees. It's been super busy at work (I'm covering for two people on top of my own job) and that's usually some of my best writing time, plus I'm exhausted when I get home. But I will TRY to get this updated again this week!

It took longer than he would have liked for the herd of walkers around the mill to clear out, to move on and follow the path to the smoky beacon of Terminus in the distance. Of course it wasn’t like they could run out there as soon as the walkers had moved on, but at least he and Beth could get some sleep without the horde of undead pressing to get in and filling the vaulted space with the echoes of their moans.

Beth had found her way of coping while they were still there, though, and frankly he hadn’t exactly been in the mood to complain given that her chosen method was curling up at his side and sleeping with her cheek to his shoulder. He told himself he was just glad she’d found a way to get any kinda sleep at all, considering the hell they were surrounded by. 

He _told_ himself that he was just glad he could offer her that comfort, because that made it easier to ignore the way it felt to have her curled against him, the way she looked all soft and sweet when she was asleep, the way he’d find himself wanting to reach up and nudge a curled tendril of blonde hair off her cheek or wrap his arm a little tighter around her and draw her closer. 

No, his bein’ pleased was about her comfort, about her finding a way to cope. It wasn’t about any of the rest of it. Or it shouldn’t have been, anyway. 

Of course, it was harder to tell himself that when the walkers left and she stayed. When that first night full of silent air found her tucking herself right up against his side again with her face pillowed against his arm. There weren’t no walkers driving her to the safety of his side, he wasn't protecting her from the sound of them, wasn't making it easier anymore for her to find sleep in a sea of undead groans.

And if it wasn’t just about her coping anymore, than he couldn’t tell himself that was why it felt so good. Cause it wasn’t. It wasn’t just about keeping her safe, giving her the safety she needed to sleep. It was about her nearness and the scent of her lingering in the air around him It was about the warmth of her body and the way sometimes she’d shift her head and he could feel her hair brush against his jaw and it would make him want to reach out and curl his fingers through those tendrils.

He didn’t, of course. But he thought about it night after night, and the thoughts lingered the next day when the sun was warming the mill and the scent of her still seemed to fill the damn place and all he could think about was that he needed to get some fresh air or he was gonna do something crazy... like kiss her. 

If he thought about that too much, he’d think about the fact that maybe she wouldn’t mind. He’d think about the way she’d kissed him before and the way her lips had felt against his, and he’d wonder not only what it all meant. He’d wonder if it had all just been in the heat of the moment, or if she wanted more, wanted to kiss him, wanted him to kiss her. He’d want to try... And he knew he had to get some goddamn air.

But not without her, of course. 

(Never without her.)

He came up from checking the perimeter through the windows downstairs, and found her standing by the window, peering out into the distance. He knew he wasn’t the only one who was starting to feel a bit stir crazy in here. It wasn’t having a steady place that was the problem, it was the fact that they hadn’t left these walls in days. Beth must have been itching to get out again just as much as he was. 

So when he leaned against the post at the top of the stairs, there was a hint of a smirk on his lips as he asked, “You wanna get out of here for a bit?” 

She spun around almost immediately, her blonde hair flashing in the sun, her eyes big and bright and wide with excitement the moment they fixed on him. “Really?” Her eyes narrowed and she propped her hands on her hips. “You mean it, or are you just messing with me? You better not be messing with me, Daryl Dixon!”

But she was grinning even as she said it, and they both knew he wasn’t messing even before he responded, “I ever mess with you, Greene?”

“Yeah, a little.” She chuckled but she was already coming towards him, stopping only to pick up the small black backpack that was hers now, rescued from the same farmhouse where she’d also gotten her new clothes. “Where are we goin’?”

“Not to Terminus,” he said gruffly and quickly. “Too soon. Last thing we want is to walk right into that damn herd again.” He saw her shudder at the thought, and was quick to add, “Figured we could finish what we were doin’ before, checking out the area. Only managed to get one farmhouse that first time, and you reckoned there’d be a couple more, right? Should be able to find more food and supplies, plus…”

He drifted off and looked out the window, and Beth picked up his trailing thought with a smile and a nudge of her arm against his. “Plus we can get out of here for a bit? Get some fresh air?” Then she was moving past him down the stairs with a bounce in her steps he hadn’t seen in days, maybe longer. For a moment he just stood there studying her gait, pleased to see that she was barely favoring her ankle now though she still had her wrist bandaged and held close to her chest. That would take far longer to heal, but at least she could walk. At least she could _run_.

In a world like this, they both knew that being able to run was one of the most basic necessities for survival. Daryl knew Beth could take care of herself, but lord did he feel better knowing she could run again. 

Despite their enthusiasm, Beth still hesitated as they reached the front door and slowly moved away their makeshift barricade. “Should be safe,” Daryl grunted, pausing even still to peer outside the window beside it. “Checked earlier.” Of course it never hurt to be extra careful, especially now. 

Swinging his crossbow down from across his back and into his hands, Daryl nudged the door open and moved outside, taking slow and careful steps and peering around him as Beth followed Sighting down his bow, he swept from left to right and back again. Fields stretched around them in every direction, the long grass that had once swayed in the breeze now trampled from the herd that had come through, though it was still gilded golden by the sun above. Off to the back of the mill he thought he could just glimpse the bloodstains that marked the place he’d been forced to leave the deer, which he imagined was torn to pieces by now. But there were no walkers, so after a few moments he slowly lowered his bow and gave a nod. “Looks clear. For now.” 

Beth shut the door firmly behind them but then slipped past him to the side of the mill, brushing against the kudzu that clung to the walls of it as she reached behind or her backpack. “We should fill up our water bottles just in case, before we head out. I’ve got it.” 

She had it well in hand but he still trailed after her, coming to lean against the side of the Mill and watch as she dropped to her knees by the little brook and began to carefully fill the bottles from her back one at a time. As she held the open bottle in the stream of water, she tipped her head back and looked up at the sky. To his amusement, he couldn’t help thinking that she looked almost like a cat; face upturned and eyes shut, drinking in the warmth of it on her skin like a cat curled in a puddle of sunlight. Minus the fur of course, and the twitching tail… but with the same hint of playfulness in her eyes a few seconds later when she glanced over at him and rose to her feet.

“Here,” she remarked, tossing him one full bottle before taking a sip from hers, capping it, and slipping it back into her bag. As she slung the backpack over her shoulders she took a moment to look around them and then picked a direction, heading off firmly in the opposite direction from where the fire and smoke had marred the sky for days. It was gone now, but that didn’t matter; that location was firmly etched in both of their minds. It hung there, distant but heavy, a never-fading reminder of what they might eventually have to face.

But that was eventually, and this was now. Separate, for the time being at least. That lightness was in Beth’s step still as she walked. He could see her gaze sweeping from side to side and studying the treelines, but despite her alertness there was a looseness to her movements, a sense of happiness pervading each gestures as she ran her fingers over the swaying grass, or tipped her head back towards the blue sky and breathed in deep. 

And there was color in her face again; bright in her eyes and flushing her cheeks… as if she’d begun to wilt, trapped inside that dimly lit mill and now she was like a plant or a flower, getting a glimpse of the sun and blooming all over again. He hadn’t even realized how being trapped inside had affected her until he saw her like this, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was the same for him. Of course, he wasn’t no pretty flower sort like her, bloomin’ or nothing like that… but it did feel good, being outside again.

“What do you think we’ll find?” Beth asked, glancing over her shoulder at him in a movement that caused the thin braid wound through her ponytail to sway temptingly.

“A house,” he grunted shortly, resisting the urge for now to reach out and tug at her braid like some school kid pestering a girl he liked. He wasn’t being gruff, and she knew it. She could read his tones well by now, and he knew from the light in her eyes and the tug at the corners of her lips that she took it as the teasing it was intended to be.

“Yeah? Hm.” She turned back ahead, but not before he saw that hint of a smile widen slightly. “Cause I was hoping for another barn maybe. You know I really do like barns, these days. Just something about them…” 

Well that was weird. What did she like about barns? There weren’t animals in them anymore, or anything special. Or maybe it was something else. Because when he thought about barns, he thought of… warm air and the scent of hay and the feeling of her lips pressed against his and-- wait. 

Was she _flirting_ with him? He didn’t think anyone had ever flirted with him, leastways not like that. Not all sweet and playful and innocently coy. No, all he’d ever had was half-drunken slurred words, girls with bleached hair and too much makeup running their hand up his thigh and whispering something in his ear that usually made him shudder a bit and push them away, push them back towards Merle who’d relish the way they hung all over him.

It had always been too much for him. _This_ was too much for him, but not in the same way. This was too much because… because he liked it and fuck if he knew what to do with that, what to say. Except to grunt, and try to tease her right back, anyway. “Someone’s frisky today” She glanced quickly back at him, and he was gratified to see the flush on her cheeks. Maybe he wasn’t the only one flustered by all this.

Oddly, knowing that made it feel easier to handle.

“It’s the sun,” she said after a moment, and this time when she looked over her shoulder at him it was with another sweet smile that lit up her whole face and made him feel a tug at the corners of his own lips in return. Especially when she stretched her arms out and began to softly sing, “ _Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces. Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here…_ ”

To his surrpise, the song was familiar. His eyebrow raised as he watched her, riveted to the sight of her ahead of him as he remarked,“Hey, I know that one…”

Beth spun around, walking backwards for a moment through the grass, eyes on him as she crooned, “ _Here comes the sun, here comes the sun and I say.... it's all right._ ” 

“Beatles,” he said with a little nod, surprised and pleased that she was singing something he actually knew for once. Her voice was sweet as always. He could have listened to it for hours, to be honest. But as he came up beside her, he nudged her arm with his and said in a playfully gruff voice, “C’mon, keep your eyes ahead, Greene.”

“Yessir, Mr. Dixon sir.” She giggled with amusement, ruining any chance of him taking her seriously, though frankly he’d been able to tell she was playing before she’d laughed.

“You really are frisky today,” he remarked again, trying to keep his gaze ahead despite how it kept straying to her. He couldn’t seem to help it, not when she was all lit up by both the sun and her own good mood, pretty much shining from within just as much as the sun was shining on her. 

“Are you complaining, Mr. Dixon?” The coy little smile she gave him had him chuckling even as she shifted just enough to have their arms brushing together. 

Goddamn, she really was flirting with him, wasn’t she? Well it wasn’t like he hadn’t had all sorts of new experiences with Beth before. Seemed to be her specialty; that, and making him feel all sorts of shit he weren’t used to. 

With a low hum, he finally replied, “Nah, guess it ain’t bad.”

Who was he kidding, though? Truth was he ain’t never enjoyed bein’ flirted with as much as he was enjoying this right now with Beth.

* * *

The field turned to woods, a familiar sort of terrain for the two of them to navigate in. Both of their steps were practically silent, though Beth still moved with that same lightness that hinted at her delight in being outside. Not that it made her any less observant or focused, of course.

In fact, she was the one that spotted the first glimpse of something through the trees up ahead, causing him to shift their direction and lead them towards it slowly but surely, taking care to be extra silent as they reached the line of the trees and stared out at another big stretch of fields.

At first he didn’t notice much, beyond the fences that he assumed were pastures for some kind of animals, and the white farmhouse; bigger than the last one they’d visited, at least it seemed to be from here. But then beside him, Beth let out a gasp.

“What?” Worried, he turned to her, but there was a grin on her lips as she pointed to the left of the farmhouse.

“Look! See all those trees over there?” 

Once he wasn’t worried that it was walkers or worse, Daryl fixed his gaze past the edge of the farmhouse, to where rows and rows of small trees stretched out in the distance. “Yeah?”

“I think those are _pecan_ trees, Daryl. Pecans!” She looked so excited he was surprised she wasn’t bouncing in place. She was practically vibrating with it, and he couldn’t seem to help giving a low chuckle that rumbled through his chest at her enthusiasm. 

Then again it wasn’t like he could really laugh at her, considering how pleased he’d gotten over the beechnuts he’d found when they’d first gotten to the mill. He’d been just about as excited as she was, come to think of it. Although maybe not quite so giddy. 

“C’mon,” he remarked with a hint of a smirk, nudging her towards the farmhouse in the distance. “We’ll check the place first, make sure it’s safe, comb through it. Then we can get us some pecans after, alright?” 

“Yes, Mr. Dixon.” Her cheeky little smile earned her a grunt in response, but even he could feel the tug of a tiny smile at the corners of his lips as he lead the way down through the field to the farmhouse. The closer they got, the more intently his gaze focused on it. Like the other it looked to be in pretty good shape, though the white paint was peeling and the roof seemed to sag a bit in one spot. Ivy grew over one wall of the house, creeping it’s way across the overhang above the wide front steps that were once painted a light blue but now were cracked and faded. 

The downstairs windows were all boarded up, which made him think that perhaps the owners had tried to make some sort of stand here, at least for some length of time. But there were signs that no one was in residence anymore. A broken window on the top floor, a loose board on one of the downstairs windows, and of course the pecan trees off to the left, their output both heavy on their branches and scattered across the ground beneath them as well. 

As they neared the front, Daryl slowed to a stop. “See anything?” 

A simple question, but he didn’t have to say much more than that. Beth immediately began to peer around them, studying the matted down and yellowed grass in front of the abandoned home until her eyes narrowed. “Something went through here. Not a herd, but maybe a good-sized group?” She traced her eyes from left to right, parallel to the house. “Crossed in front of it anyway, but didn’t go in. Maybe they were heading towards the sound of that explosion, too?”

“Mm. Or it might’ve been before that, hard to tell. Good eye, though.” He meant it, which was why he said it… though of course the pleased smile was an added benefit. “C’mon,” he remarked, crossing the worn path in the grass to lead the way up to the creaking steps. “Let’s give this place a look through..”

* * *

In the end, the house seemed to somewhat tell it’s own story. It had clearly been fortified and lived in, for some time anyway; the door had been boarded shut from the inside, and he’d ended up having to pull the loose boards off one of the windows to get them both in through there. In the kitchen they found a small stash of canned food that they quickly packed into their bags to take with them. Two cans sat open on the kitchen table; one with a fork still in it, the other tipped over so that it’s contents (beans, he’d declared after a moment of inspection) had spilled across the table where they remained now, rotten and crusted. Someone had been in the middle of the meal when something had interrupted them, and it only took a loop through the house to figure out what it had been. 

There was a walker in the hallway upstairs; an older man dressed in blue jeans and a torn flannel shirt, with a yellowed, stained bandage wrapped around his left arm. After Daryl put him down with a quick bolt, they found his bloodied handprints marking the doorway at the end of the hall. Seeing the look of dread on Beth’s face, it was Daryl who had pushed the door open to reveal the thankfully empty room beyond and the window propped open looking out onto the pecan trees, curtain flapping in the breeze.

“They got out,” Beth murmured as she crossed to the window. After a second she turned, picking up a photo that sat on the desk next to the window. In it was an older man his arms around two smiling younger girls. The man’s resemblance to the walker out in the hallway was instantly recognizable, just as the girl’s resemblance to each other was. Sisters, then, and their Dad. “They must have been holed up here,” Beth murmured, staring down at the picture still. “The three of them. Only he got bitten. Maybe they didn’t know what it means, maybe they thought they could help him… or maybe he didn’t tell him. But he turned and they had to run. They must not’ve been able to fight him, or maybe they weren’t willing to, so they fled. Right out that window. Together, though... I bet they ran together.” 

He’d have known what she was thinking even without the thickness in her voice, would’ve known the connections her mind was making right now even if he couldn’t see how it was affecting her. She was thinking about her Dad, maybe, wondering if she’d have had the guts to end his life if he’d turned. Probably it wasn’t the first time she’d considered that, given how close he’d come back at the prison before he’d fallen to a blade instead of a bite. But she was also thinking about her sister, too, he reckoned. Thinking about how Maggie had given up on her, left her behind, but these two sisters had clung to each other even in the worst of times. 

Maybe she was thinking about it a little too hard, judging by the tightness in her shoulders and the darkness in her eyes. Clearing his throat, Daryl came up behind her. One hand came up with only a tiny hesitation to rest over her shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze, while the other reached out to take the frame from her hand and set it back down on the desk. “C’mon,” he remarked softly, waiting until she’d looked up into his eyes to go on, “Saw a bunch of bookcases downstairs. Let you have first pick, if you want…” 

“Yeah?” She watched him quietly for a moment, neither of them looking away from the other. He held her gaze, intent on saying with his eyes what he couldn’t with his words; maybe not _it’ll be okay_ (because he couldn’t promise that) but without a doubt something like _I’m right here_ and _you’re not alone_. And maybe she saw it. Maybe she could read in his eyes all the things reverberated within him, the things that throbbed within his heart and rose up, right to the tip of his tongue but never any further. Maybe she could still hear them in her own way, because after a moment he saw the corner of her lips quirk up as she gave a little nod. “Okay. But you know this means you can’t complain if I find some sort of cheesy historical romance I want to read, right?” 

All he could do was groan, as he followed after her. Just like he groaned a few minutes later when she delightedly pulled out some thick paperback with a pastel pink binding, and a cover featuring some woman in a fancy old dress with a long-haired, big-chested man standing behind her, both their hair blowing in the wind. “Oooh, this one looks good!” Looking up and catching sight of him grumbling over it, Beth just crinkled up her nose and giggled. “Hey I’m getting it, okay? You told me I could have first pick, now you’re stuck with it.” 

Eyes on him, she slipped it into her bag decisively, but after a moment she added, “But I promise, I’ll only get one. C’mon, you pick a couple. I always like the ones you pick out.” Beth eyed him speculatively for a few seconds, a sort of knowing look in her eyes before she gave a nod. “You should check the ones with the darker colored spines. My bet is, the mystery and crime books and stuff will be like that. It’s weird how they color-code books, isn’t it?” 

He would have said it was weird that she knew exactly what books he’d be interested it, but of course it wasn’t. Not now, not since reading had been the one thing keeping them occupied in their time shut up in the mill. A week or so ago he would have just grunted at the offer to read. It would have made his stomach churn with memories of school and failed classes, of being called on by the teacher to read out loud and having the kids in class tease him for stumbling over words or saying things wrong. But not with Beth. It was never like that with her. Mostly she read out loud for them both and he got to enjoy her pretty voice; but sometimes he read out loud instead, and when he did she never corrected him or butted in. She just let him go at his own pace and he was surprised to find it was a hell of a lot easier when he didn’t have kids tossing paper balls at his head and laughing at him in front of everyone. 

As he skimmed the spines of the books he found himself looking forward to going back to the mill. Even as much as he’d wanted to get out of there, to get some air, now he was fixated on the thought of being back in front of that little stove with Beth tucked up beside him and a book open in one of their hands. Maybe this time he’d do a little more. Maybe he’d wrap his arm around her while she read… it was an appealing mental image, one that had him unexpectedly distracted until a movement from the corner of his eye had him pulling his gaze away from the books to watch her. 

She had roamed away from the bookshelves and was standing by a small closet that she’d pulled open. “I thought maybe they’d have some thick blankets in here or something, and I was right! But I can’t-” As he watched, she leaned up on her toes and stretched, with a squeak of frustration, “-reach… it….” 

He acted without thinking. The bookcase forgotten, Daryl came up behind her, curled his hands around her waist, and lifted her up. She was in the air before he even realized what he was doing but he didn’t falter, not with the precious burden he had in his hands. “Go on then.” His voice was low, gruffer than before… maybe because he was so acutely aware of the warmth of her body and the fact that one of his fingers had accidentally slipped under her shirt and he could just feel the warmth of a sliver of skin beneath his touch. “Grab it.”

Above him Daryl could hear Beth’s breathing hitch for a moment before she reached out and grasped the thick quilt that sat on the top shelf of the closet. “Okay…” At her words he brought her down to her feet gently, only letting go once her feet were safely on the ground, and frankly still reluctantly at that, because lord but he hadn’t really wanted to lose the warmth of her beneath his hands.

She turned to face him and he didn’t pull back. For some damn reason his heart was pounding a bit more than normal, clanging away in his chest like a galloping horse, and he almost wondered if she could hear it. But off course she couldn’t, even if it was echoing in his ears. Just like he couldn’t hear hers though for a moment he was tempted. He wanted to know if her heart was racing like his was, if he’d be able to hear it if he got close or feel it if he pressed his hand just above her chest, and oh… that was not sort of thing he should have been thinking. Not at all, but especially not when she was so close to him, looking up at him with those eyes, big and blue as cornflowers and filled with the same sort of warmth he thought he felt inside himself, too. 

There it was again. That sensation of being on the precipice and not knowing what to do. he thing was, it wasn’t that he had _no_ ideas. It was that he had too many. Like his brain was the racetrack at Nascar and fifty cars were driving around it all at once, but instead of the growls of engines it was whispered suggestions: _Touch her, hold her, kiss her, flirt with her, watch her, say something just say something…_

It was the last though, urgent and repeating again and again, that prompted him into opening his mouth and blurting out, “Good thing y’ got me to help you, short stuff.”

_Short stuff?_ Fuck, he could just see Merle rolling his eyes, could just hear his brother’s voice drawling with a smirk: _Shit, ain’t I ever taught you how to talk to a woman, Darylina?_

_Sure you did_ , Daryl thought back, firmly grasping that voice and shoving it into the recesses of his mind, _but it weren’t the way you were supposed to talk to a girl like Beth_.

Granted, his method wasn’t much better but at least he wasn’t offending her. In fact she was giggling, and he was pretty sure that there was a hint of a flush to her cheeks as she stood there in front of him, barely any space between them except for the blanket she was holding folded to her chest. “ _Short stuff_? I’m not sure that nickname will stick, Mr. Dixon.” She brushed past him and god, she had to be doing that on purpose, going so slowly that her side slid against his as she slipped past. Pausing to look over her shoulder, she waited until his eyes met his before she added in a softer voice, “But I am glad I have you to help me.” 

Okay yeah. She was definitely flirting.

Now if only he could figure out what the hell he was supposed to do about that.

* * *

He was still wondering when they finished checking the house for supplies and headed out the back door to the rows of pecan trees. They’d grabbed a few books from inside the house, but not everything they got was for pleasure. There was the blanket that was now strapped to Beth’s backpack, the canned food from the kitchen, and a couple sweaters; one for him and two for her. It’d be getting cold sooner than not, and he knew they’d need them. She’d found a pair of jeans that fit her, too, in one of the girl’s rooms, and rolled it up to stick down into her bag. 

“You know, deer love pecans,” Beth mused as they moved carefully down the back steps and towards the nearest tree. 

“Mm,” he agreed with a nod, splitting his mind from the question of what to do about her flirting in order to focus on the topic at hand. “Might be a good place to come back to, maybe camp out for a day see if we can’t catch somethin’. If we’re heading out, it’d be good t’ have a nice supply of venison jerky.”

“Yeah…” She neared the first line of trees and flashed him a grin over her shoulder. “Plus maybe this time you can get one without having to face down a herd of walkers to bring it back, hm?” 

“You shush,” Daryl shot back, hiding his smirk by looking down at the canvas bag in his hand that they’d taken from the farmhouse kitchen.

“Yessir, Mr. Dixon sir.” His head might have been down, but he could hear the smirk in her voice again this time, without a doubt. 

Though he made sure to keep an eye out on their surroundings (it wouldn’t do to have a walker creep up on them through the rows of trees) soon he was focused on bending over to pick up whatever ripe pecans had fallen to the ground and not yet been eaten. Well, mostly focused… ‘cause he couldn’t help but also be aware of Beth just a few feet away, her long blonde hair falling into her eyes as she bent down to examine the ground.. She had the handle of the bag looped around her injured arm but higher up, past her makeshift cast, and she was using her good hand to brush through the husks on the ground and scoop up any pecans she could find.

Wasn’t now the perfect sort of time to say something? When it was quiet and peaceful like this? Course it would help if he knew what to say. It wasn’t a question of if he wanted to. Crazy as it was, he did. He wanted to find some damn way to flirt back at her, or if not flirt than at least say something nice… something that would let her know he didn’t mind the way she had been flirting with him, didn’t mind when she was teasing and playful, and definitely didn’t mind when she kissed him.

The problem was, he was Daryl Dixon. He wasn’t the kinda guy that even _got_ flirted with, let alone knew what to say back. At least not to a girl like her.

Once in elementary school Merle (who was somethin’ near 15 or 16 at the time) had gotten wind of his crush on a girl named Ruby. Merle’s advice had been to pull on her braids, something about how that was how girl’s knew you liked them, when you teased ‘em and messed with ‘em or something. The thing was, he couldn’t do it. Cause every time he thought about tugging on Ruby’s braids, he’d thought of his Dad yanking his Mama’s hair and dragging her into the bedroom, and how he’d find her in there crying and trying to cover up her bruises, and if that was telling a girl you liked her then he didn’t think he wanted anything to do with it. 

Besides, Ruby had been one of those perfect girls; the sweet, clean, nicely dressed ones that ain’t never looked at him even sideways. Like Beth, but not. Cause she looked at him, all the time. Looked at him like she saw him, looked at him like she _wanted_ to see him. Hell, like she wanted to do more than just see him.

She was looking at him now, tilting her head to peer up at him through the fringe of her hair, a ghost of a smile on her lips as she studied him for a moment and then looked away. What if he went up to her right now? What if instead of tugging on her braid, though, he did something else instead, like… like running his fingers through those silky blonde strands, tucking them behind her ear so the pads of his fingers could graze the soft apple of her cheek and…

“ _Well I was raised up beneath the shade of a Georgia pine, and that's home you know,_ ” Her sweet voice broke into both the natural silence as well as her thoughts. Sweet and breathy she crooned the tune, her southern twang coming out stronger as she turned to flash him a smile, “ _Sweet tea, pecan pie, and homemade wine, where the peaches grow…_ ” She stood up, dropping one last pecan in her bag as her eyes stayed steady not on the farmhouse in the distance but him as she sang on, “ _And my house it's not much to talk about, but it's filled with love that's grown in southern ground._ ”

The way she looked at him when she sang that… it put him right on the precipice again, right on the edge of that track standing in the center as a hundred thoughts and suggestions went racing around him. _Home_. He didn’t have a house but he had a sense of home and it was standing right there in front of him, right now.

“ _And a little bit of chicken fried, cold beer on a Friday night…_ ” He set down his bag slowly and took a step towards her and then another, growing in confidence as he went. “- _A pair of jeans that fit just right, and the radio up..._ He was just inches away from her now but though she slowed she didn’t stop singing, just crooning in that sweet soft voice of hers, “ _I love to see the sunrise, see the love in my woman's eyes…_ ” 

This time as she trailed off, there was just one track in his mind. One thought, one idea, one plan. Clarity, at last. So before he could lose that clear sense of rightness, Daryl leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. His hand came up to cup her cheek just as he’d imagined, fingers lightly brushing over the soft curve of it as he tilted her head up towards him, letting the kiss linger. 

It was soft and slow, nothing too deep or hungry. But it was him kissing her for the first time; and if it was the heat of the moment than it was a slow, quiet sort of heat this time . A simmering heat rather than a fast boil, nothing that could be excused away by an emotional moment. 

And it was his. His choice, his clear understanding that this was exactly what he wanted to do and that he _could_ do it.

Even still there was a hint of hesitancy as he pulled back to look down at her pretty face, to watch her eyes flutter slowly open again. If he dreaded seeing doubt or annoyance in her eyes, that dread was gone as quick as it came, ‘cause there was nothing but happiness in her eyes and her smile as she looked up at him. 

They stood there for a few seconds just drinking each other in, until Beth broke the silence with a soft giggle and teased, “You should try one of these pecans.”

“What?” Frankly his head was still spinning from kissing her- him, _kissing Beth Greene_ \- and it took him a minute to figure out what she was saying. 

“Come on!” She exclaimed, just as bright and playful as she had been earlier, albeit with a new warmth in her eyes and lingering on her cheeks. “Come on, try one. Try, Daryl, c’mon!” 

When she raised one of them to his mouth and pressed it to his lips, he couldn’t say no. Didn’t have any desire to, really. But it did occur to him as he parted his lips and let her slip the pecan inside, felt the tips of her fingers just lightly graze his tongue… that maybe they were alright, figuring this out together. Maybe he didn’t need Merle’s advice, maybe he didn’t need to know ‘how’ to flirt.

Maybe he could just have this, with her. Simple, happy moments like this, doin’ whatever felt _right_. 

The way she giggled as he chewed on the pecan with an appreciative hum told him he might just be on the right track with that line of thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first song Beth sings is "Here Comes the Sun" by the Beatles, the second is "Chicken Fried" by the Zac Brown Band. Beth has eclectic tastes, obviously! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, I will do my best as I said to update soon.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a night of reflection and romance-novel reading fun, Beth and Daryl head out to try and hunt down a deer _without_ the distraction of a herd of walkers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gasp! Only a day in between updates, yay! I said I was going to try and update more frequently, didn't I? This update I guess is a bit of "filler", or maybe just a nice somewhat-fluffy segue before the action picks up again. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> (Also, the beginning part of this chapter is one of my favorite things I've written in awhile now.)

Beth knew, as she figured everyone still living in this world knew, that the old way of life was gone. So many things once considered simple pleasures or even day to day givens were now just relics of the past, or luxuries, fond memories or useless old traditions. But knowing that didn’t stop her from thinking of those things still, or from dreamily applying them to her current situation.

She was no longer an innocent and naive teenage girl who could lay on her stomach on her childhood bed and kick her legs in the air as she scribbled loopy love notes in her diary and drew little hearts around it all. Not just because that journal was long gone and the one she had found in the time after had been lost too, left abandoned in the dirt outside the funeral home that had provided a few brief shining moments of it’s own. No, because time had moved on and left that life beyond. Because _she_ had moved on and left that girl behind.

But she could still remember being that girl. She could still imagine what she might do if she _was_ that girl. In the wake of the kiss in the midst of the pecan grove she could imagine giggling over it in the privacy of her room, summarizing it in her journal in a curly handwriting with each heart dotted by a perfect little heart. She could imagine herself sneaking some of the pecan shells away and putting them in that little box she kept under her bed. It had sat there since she was a kid, originally just a plain shoe box that was later decorated with flowers and inspirational words cut out from magazines and pasted on by hand, dotted with sparkly stickers acquired some time after. 

Into that box she had placed things that had meant something to her. A broken broach in the shape of a dove, that had once belonged to her Memaw. A posy of flowers given to her by Jimmy when they were younger, pressed and dried out and safely tucked into a plastic bag. Her first diary, filled with more stickers and doodles than words, the edges of it worn and stained from her sticky childhood fingers. A small leather bag filled with shiny rocks, a mix tape she’d made when she was twelve, a folded up note from Savannah (her best friend when she was 13) telling her that she thought Hartley Johnson had a crush on her. 

That box was gone now. Or maybe it was still there. Maybe the farmhouse hadn’t burned up in the blaze that had taken the barn. Maybe the box was still sitting there collecting dust under her metal-framed bed with it’s warm white comforter, keeping company with her teddy bear still perched on the pillows. Maybe some day someone would find it and look through it and to them it would all just be junk. It wouldn’t have the same meaning it had for her. 

She knew deep inside that just because the box was physically gone didn’t mean she didn’t have some part of inside, in her heart and in her memories. There was a box there much like it, still being filled every day. As she sat in the mill, wrapped in a blanket sitting by the warm iron stove, she opened that box and slipped a new memory into it. A memory that smelled like chestnuts and cooling late-summer air, but also of leather and sweat and a slight hint of the copper of blood. It was a scent that was irrevocably linked to _Daryl_ in her mind now, along with so many other things. The rough gravel of his voice, the fall of his dark hair over his eyes, the twang of a releasing bolt from his crossbow, his sure and silent stride through the woods… and now, his warmth. His nearness, the weight of his hands on her hips lifting her up or drawing him close, the heft of his arm across her shoulder as she leaned on him in sleep. 

And his lips. Lord, she could not stop thinking about his lips. Slightly dry but warm and firm, the press of them sending shivers through her, flushing her with heat even in memory. Kissing him twice had been incredible. Being kissed _by_ him was practically indescribable and not simply because she had never imagined it could happen, though that was part of it.

All that and more she placed neatly into that box in her heart, as if her memories were physical objects she could gently set into place beside a bag of shiny stones and an old diary. If they had been, Beth knew these memories would have sparkled and shone perhaps more than anything she had ever treasured before. Every memory of him would have, from the first time he drove up to the farm, through the night they’d burned up that old shack, to the day he’d carried her away from the almost-death and back into the safety of the woods.

Maybe even this, too. The sight of him coming hesitantly over to her, dropping his bag on the ground before casually lowering himself to the floor beside her. He offered her a hint of a smile that she returned even fully and more warmly; partially because she knew that he might need that reassurance but also because frankly these days, she couldn’t help but want to smile when she saw him.

As he drew up his knees and settled his bag between his legs, Daryl darted a glance over at her and asked, “Warming yourself up?” 

“Mmm. I’m warmer already.” The September air was far from cold, but it was getting cooler each night it seemed. They had stayed out till sunset, coming back with their scavenged supplies from the first house before heading out again to check the other farmhouses in the area, and the air had grown cool by the time they barricaded the mill door and climbed back upstairs. 

On the plus side they’d only seen one or two walkers, stragglers it seemed, and from the three farmhouses they’d checked in total today they’d ended up with a good-sized stash. The second had been somewhat trashed; though it looked more like the owners had done it themselves in their rush to escape. The third had been almost untouched, boarded up like the first but abandoned as well. This one hadn’t told quite as obvious a story as the pecan farmhouse, though. Beth could only guess that the people holed up in it had just moved on at some point; there were no walkers roaming the halls, and some of the leftover supplies still remained. 

These were the bulk of what Daryl pulled out of his bag now, adding to their neatly stacked cans and jars set up in front of them like a display. “Gonna get even colder soon,” he remarked, “Good thing we found them sweaters, at that first place. Should keep an eye out for coats though, in the next month or so. Might need ‘em.” 

“Yeah,” Beth mused, reaching out to grab the can he’d pulled from his bag. She turned it slowly in her hand, inspecting the worn label; it was beans, which were nothing new, but the best sort of protein they’d have, unless their plan to try and wait out a deer at the pecan farm worked out tomorrow. “I remember. After the farm and before the prison… lord, it was so _cold_. All of us sleeping all tucked together for warmth.” 

Those days every night had ended in a huddle of bodies, no thought given to propriety or personal space when the warmth of someone’s body next to yours was the one thing keeping off the chill of the encroaching winter. Suddenly her eyes strayed to him and a flush stained her cheeks at the realization that there was no group anymore, just the two of them. If she was gonna cuddle up for warmth with anyone, it’d be Daryl… and the truth was that Beth didn’t mind the idea of that one bit. Heck she was practically already doing it every night, since the herd had come through. 

Clearing her throat she flashed him a playful grin, deflecting any awkwardness with an attempt to tease him, “Maybe we can find you another poncho. Such a good look on you, after all…”

“Hey.” He nudged her arm with his and though he tried to sound scolding, just meeting his eyes filled Beth with that same bubbling, fluttering sort of warmth. She had a feeling she wasn’t the only one, judging by the way the deep ocean blue of his eyes warmed and darkened as he went on, “You pokin’ fun at my poncho?”

“Me? Never!” A giggled bubbled free as she said it, but she was just teasing him. The truth was, it was far from unpleasant remembering him wearing that poncho. Probably because it also involved remembering him on the back of his bike, the fabric blowing in the wind or settling across his body as he straddled the vibrating motorcycle and… and now she was all flushed again, ducking her head but smiling up at him as she added, “I liked that poncho. I wanted to steal it, you know. Or borrow it. But Maggie told me you’d have bit my head off for even asking, so I never tried.”

“Hm.” He grunted out a reply to that and turned his attention back to the bag in his hand, pulling out a couple more cans as well as a flashlight and some spare batteries, and the most exciting find of the run: a solar-powered camping lantern. Daryl had snatched that up instantly, inspecting it from all angles before giving what she thought of as his ‘pleased grunt’ and attaching it by a hook to his backpack so it could absorb some sunlight on the way back to the mill. Now he toyed with it again, turning it in his hands and inspecting it another time over. “Might not’ve said no.” His voice was quiet when he spoke, catching her by surprise and not just because of his admission. “Always wondered how you didn’t freeze every night. So damn tiny and bony.” 

As she watched he flipped the switch, and the slow response of the lights turning up within the lantern had the rumble of his pleased grunt going through him again even as he turned it off. “Hey,” Beth murmured, mimicking him as she nudged her arm against his and waited until he looked up at her and met her eyes to ask, “Should I be offended that you think I’m bony and tiny, Mr. Dixon?” 

“Nah.” He didn’t even hesitate, just looked right into her eyes and shook his head. “You ain’t got nothin’ to be ashamed of. You bein’ tiny ain’t a bad thing.” 

“Oh no?” 

Now she raised her eyebrows curiously, and was oddly delighted to see him get flustered, the tips of his ears turning pink as he stumbled over a response, “I mean, s’nice. Y’know, for all this. You can, ah… slip in and out of places better, and, uh… it’s just…”

“ _Nice_?” Maybe she was being too wicked teasing him, watching him get all unsure until he coughed and started to look away. That was what drew her in again, had her leaning into him until the length of her arm pressed against his and she could look up at him and smile as she whispered, “I’m glad you think it’s nice.” 

And then, just so he wouldn’t feel any more awkward than he already had, Beth smoothly changed the subject by reaching out to the lantern to add brightly, “ _And_ I’m glad we found this. Now maybe we can read at night…”

* * *

“Valentina watched the brave knight walk away from her down the long corridor of the manor. There was simply something about the stretch of his broad shoulders beneath his doublet that made her breath come short and her bosom heave, swelling over the low embroidered neckline of her gown…” 

“Probably cause she’s got that damn gown on too tight.” Daryl’s grunted words cut off Beth, who turned to furrow her brow at him.

“Daryl!”

“What?” A corner of his lip lifted in a hint of a smirk, because he could see the amusement in her eyes even though she was trying to look stern. She had a way of doing that, trying to scold him even when every other inch of her was trying not to laugh. In an effort to coax up that laughter he liked to hear so much, Daryl went on, “Damn book spent like three paragraphs on her corset being laced, sounded to me like she’s strapped into the damn thing. No wonder she’s…” He waved his hand vaguely around his chest area, “...swelling over her neckline and shit.” 

“She’s _swelling_ , or whatever, because watching him makes her breath come short!” Beth blinked, and a giggle spilled from her lips. It was even better than he’d imagined. It always was. “Okay so maybe it’s also because of the tight corset and the gown and everything, but it’s definitely from watching him too…”

“Nah,” Daryl shook his head and shifted beside her. They were sitting side by side again, her thigh pressed to his and her arm against his side while he had his palm resting on the ground behind her so it was _almost_ like he had his arm around her. “Pretty sure it’s just the corset. If they were all passing out left and right back in the day, it was because they probably just needed to breathe.” He snorted, another smirk hovering on his lips as he added, “I bet all them men thought they were being swooned over…”

“Oh, come on.” Beth settled the pastel pink paperback in her lap and turned a little bit more towards him, resting against her hip as she looked up into his eyes. “Haven’t you ever, you know… seen someone that just took your breath away?” She’d been laughing, but her expression soon grew more seriously, her voice softer and more distant, almost breathy. “Like being around them just made it harder to breathe? Like your breath came a little shorter just from thinking about them, or watching them or… or looking into their eyes?” 

Daryl was gonna say no, or maybe make some joke about how he ain’t never worn a corset, so of course he’d never been breathless like that around someone. But that was a lie that was only outlined by the way he felt holding her gaze right there, looking into that deep blue and seeing the warm way she was looking back at him. His breath felt tight in his chest and he could see hers hitching too, visible in the rise and fall of her shoulders though he didn’t dare look down and see if her chest was heaving. He didn’t dare. Although looking into her eyes wasn’t much better given that they were full of the sort of emotions that only made his chest feel tighter, only made him remember earlier today out beneath those pecan trees and how he’d finally given in to the desire to kiss her again. 

Filled with that same sort of boldness, or something similar anyway, Daryl raised one eyebrow and asked daringly, “Have _you_ ever been breathless like that?” 

His thought had been to fluster her right back, to see her breath hitch again and her cheeks flush pink. He got that, sure enough (and lord was she even prettier all flushed pink like that) but he’d forgotten for a second that tendency Beth had to meet every challenge he set at her, even playful teasing ones. She didn’t back down, when it came to him.

He was reminded of that right then as she kept her eyes firmly locked with his and murmured back with a soft smile, “Oh yes. Especially recently.” 

Daryl was pretty sure _that_ might have stolen the air right from his lungs, and lord knew what he might’ve said next if he could have figured out what to say at all. But before he could even attempt to fumble for words, Beth was turning her gaze back down to the book in her lap, a smile lingering on her lips as she teased, “But I hope if I do swoon at any point you’ll be there to catch me, Mr. Dixon.” She flashed him a quick look, and giggled, “Just don’t let it go to your head.” 

At first he just snorted in response, knowing he didn’t need to say more than that considering how good she was these days at reading his expressions. Despite how she’d flustered him, some of that boldness remained and he knew it came from that same place of clarity he’d felt earlier today out in the pecan grove. It had been a clarity he had only known in certain things before, like hunting and tracking. The whole goddamn world could turn him upside down and make him feel like retreating in on himself, but when he was out in the woods following the tracks of a deer or a rabbit, it was like everything just became clear. He knew what to do, and the path in front of him was just an easy, straight line. 

When he was around Beth sometimes it was like being hit in the chest by a battering ram. She could knock him ass over heels with just one look from those blue bambi eyes, leave his head spinning and his tongue stammering to find the right words. But not always. Slowly he was finding that there were times with her when the haze would clear, and he would feel that same sense of certainty about what to do. It wasn’t always agreeing to burn down a shack, or chasing down a car with her inside. Sometimes it was tucking her up against his side when she was trembling with nightmares, or crossing the pecan-strewn grass between them and pressing his lips to hers in a kiss.

Othertimes, it was this: lifting his arm slowly but surely to settle it around her shoulder and draw her against his side. It was her voice, hesitating for only a moment before a smile crossed her lips and she began to read on again, her melodious voice just a little bit warmer as she read out the lines of the book in her lap, all the while leaning against his side.

Sure, her nearness still made things a bit hazy, still made his breathing hitch. But his desire to keep her close despite all that? Well that was crystal clear.

* * *

The day had dawned brightly, though there were clouds in the distance that hinted at rain to come; probably not today but maybe late tomorrow, at least by Daryl’s guess. He spent a little time studying the sky and their surroundings as Beth filled their water bottles once more and added them back to their bags, both packed with supplies just in case. He’d thought about getting up before dawn to head out, knowing that dawn and dusk were the best time to catch deer out feeding, but they needed what sleep they could get these days.

Besides it was the beginning of fall now, which meant it was more likely to find deer feeding even during the day. If they got there mid-day they could spend some time picking up more pecans, settling in to watch, and making plans for what was to come in the next few days. 

Beth had even brought some books along, tucking them into the black backpack she had strapped to her back. He wasn’t gonna lie, he was kinda glad the romance book wasn’t in there. Not because he hated it, but because there was no goddamn way in hell that he’d be able to focus on keeping his eye out for deer when Beth was reading _that_. Even last night they’d had to stop, when the heaving bosoms turned to passionate embraces and kisses and the lifting of layered petticoats and skirts. Suddenly they’d both been flustered and flushed, and thank the lord for Beth’s ability to deftly change the subject to their plans for today, because otherwise he’d probably have stammered out something ridiculous. 

Now they headed back to the pecan farm, just as they’d planned last night. The plan was to sweep the area just in case and then settle in on the back porch, which had a perfect few of the pecan grove. Not only would it be a good place to set-up and watch, but it’d be a good place for Beth to sit and rest a bit, too. She’d done well keeping up with him yesterday on their trips to all three of the farms they’d checked, but she hadn’t tried to hide the fact that her ankle was feeling a bit tender after all that walking.

Sure enough she exhaled a little relieved sigh as she settled down onto the steps of the farmhouse’s back porch and stretched out her leg in front of her. Gently lowering her splinted wrist into her lap, she looked up at him with a faint smile as he hesitated only a moment and then dropped down beside her, just one step higher on the stairs. “You know if it wasn’t for my wrist, I’d ask if maybe I could be the one to try for the shot, you know… if the deer shows up.” She crinkled up her nose and gave a soft sigh. “But I can barely hold your bow with my wrist injured. Even on my good arm, it’s a bit shaky.” 

His grunt was his only reply; at least audibly. His gaze had been moving before she was even halfway done speaking, shifting from her wrist to their surrounding. Maybe she could prop it somewhere to take the shot, mount the bow on the railing in place of her arm… 

Sensing her eyes lingering on him still caused Daryl to come out of his focused haze with a rumbling cough to clear his throat. “Reckon we might be able to figure somethin’ out, you know… if you want.” 

“Daryl…” The expression on her face was a mix of pleased and reproving as she went on, “Getting this deer is important, you know? I don’t wanna mess it up because I try taking the shot with my injured arm and miss…” 

“You won’t miss.” He didn’t even hesitate. He didn’t have to. “I trust you.”

There was no hint of anything reproving in the expression that flashed across her face at that. It was every bit of it full with pride, and pleasure, and joy… and a pretty pink flush that stole across her cheeks before she ducked her head and nodded into her lap. 

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments; Beth pulling her back into her lap to draw out her water bottle and take a sip, and Daryl settling his crossbow into his lap, checking over it habitually. 

“So I was thinkin’,” he said after a few moments, keeping his gaze focused on the bow in his lap as he jiggled the riser to make sure it didn’t move on it’s own and then inspecting the bowstring for any sign of wear. “In a couple days, maybe we could start heading towards Terminus. Take it slow so we hopefully don’t run into that herd, get close enough to scope the place out…” Only then did he glance over at her, studying the line of her jaw as she kept her head down and focused on her lap, where she was now toying with her bone-handled knife. “Unless you wanna change the plan. Cause we don’t have to go there, if you don’t wanna anymore.” 

Though she had been avoiding his gaze it was as if his final words hooked their way into her, drawing her up until she looked into his eyes again. There were several moments of just silence, Beth peering into his eyes as he looked right back into hers. There had been a time when he had shied away from eye contact like this; where like a nervous horse he’d have ducked his head, or grunted and looked away. Now he didn’t mind keeping his gaze open for her; didn’t mind allowing her to peer into him and see what she needed to see right now. He couldn’t be entirely sure what she was looking for but he had a feeling it was some sort of confirmation or reassurance. Maybe she was looking for honesty, looking to make sure he meant it that they didn’t have to go to Terminus, that they could make another plan; could go wherever she wanted to go.

He did mean it. Of course he did. They’d already decided that they were the priority now, above all else. 

Whatever she was searching for, Beth seemed to find it. After a few moments more she nodded, slowly but then more firmly. Her gaze dropped back down to her lap again but it was with purpose rather than reluctance that she steadily picked up her knife and began to clean it with the rag she kept in her backpack. “We should go to Terminus. If we don’t… I think we’ll always wonder, you know? We should at least try. And after that…”

Picking up the trailing tail of her words, Daryl reached out at the same time to settle his hand on her shoulder and give it a light squeeze. “After that, we’ll see.” 

The pressure of his hand lingered as she looked up and met his eyes with a soft but understanding smile and repeated, “After that we’ll see.”

* * *

They found ways to keep busy for the rest of the day. In part they made more plans for their journey; how they might be extra cautious heading towards Terminus with the threat of the walkers, how they would keep near to the tracks despite the risk if only to look for signs from their family. If Beth’s expression had faltered at her own suggestion of that, the sorrow hadn’t lasted long. Another squeeze of his hand to his shoulder and she was relaxing, even smiling as his hand brushed down her back and came to rest on the rough wood of the step behind her. 

A couple times they quietly patrolled the perimeter of the pecan farm, checking to make sure no walkers were visible approaching in the distance and also just to keep themselves moving for a bit. In between, accented by the birds chirping in the trees above, Beth filled the silence with her soft voice as she read from one of the books they’d borrowed from the very home whose porch they sat on. This one had been Daryl’s choice; another in the series of action books about the roaming former marine.

Apparently the former owner of the farmhouse had been a fan of the books too, and if Daryl’s pleasure at that discover didn’t seem obvious in his mild smile, it was still mirrored in the delight that had flashed across Beth’s face. This one seemed to be the second in the series, and the story involving the main character being accidentally kidnapped along with the intended target provided plenty of action to keep them occupied throughout the day. 

“You know what I think?” Beth’s question came late that afternoon as she set down the book to take a sip from her bottle of water. “I think these books are kinda like the male version of the romance novels.” 

Daryl’s grunt was his version of a ‘what?’ in response, one that had Beth chuckling as she looked over at him and went on,“I mean, come on. Instead of all the heaving bosoms and passionate kisses you’ve got these dramatic fight scenes and guns being shot off and _stabbing_ knives and people fighting” She punctuated her explanation with dramatic movements of her hands, mimicking being stabbed to the chest before flashing him another grin. “Plus, the women almost _always_ seem to have a thing for this guy, haven’t you noticed that?”

“Beth-” Though he’d started off listening to her words with amusement, Daryl’s attention had been distracted by movement in the pecan trees beyond.

“I mean I get it. He’s like the knight in that other book, with the broad shoulders and rippling chest muscles…” 

Daryl reached out towards her, searching for her arm without tearing his gaze away. “Beth.” 

“And you know, who _isn’t_ a fan of a pair of nice, broad shoulders like…”

“ _Beth_.” His fingers found purchase, curling over her shoulder until she broke off and turned her attention to him at his whispered utterance of her name one final time. 

“Daryl, what-” 

But all he had to do was point off into the pecan grove, and in a second Beth had gone silent. Because just there, making it’s way cautiously through the trees and pausing to lean forward and lip at the shell-covered ground, was the doe they’d been waiting for all day.

It was imperative that they move slowly and avoid startling it. The doe, it’s tawny fur appearing more reddish in the late sunlight, was still far enough away that if they were careful it wouldn’t notice them. The rows of trees between them provided some camouflage that would also be of assistance, but even still Daryl was cautious as he moved slowly to his feet inch by inch until he came to a stop. He held his hand palm out towards Beth, who stayed as stock still as the deer itself off in the distance.

Only when the doe began to move again to feed on the nuts at her feet did Daryl lower his hand and give Beth a nod. She was just as careful getting up as he had been, taking it nice and easy until she was standing up straight on the porch. He’d had all day to think about this, so he didn’t need to make any last minute decisions in the moment. In measured easy movements, he placed a bolt in the crossbow and drew it back into place until it was loaded. Only then did he make his way to the railing, perching the crossbow gently on top of it.

He didn’t speak, just gave a silent nod of his head towards the blonde-haired girl who had waited patiently, her gaze moving from him to the deer and back again. Words weren’t needed between the two of them in moments like this. She read the cues of his body, the instructions given in the lift of an arm or the nod of a head. With silent steps she came up to the crossbow and shifted her position, leaning over so she could peer down the bow while using the railing to provide the steady mounting surface that she couldn’t currently manage with her injured arm. 

As she settled into place, Daryl’s hand slid up her back. _There you go_ , his hand reassured her as she steadied her grip and her breathing began to slow. His hand brushed in a slow circle on her back, reminding her to breathe in nice and slow. _Take the time, line up the shot…_ He leaned in with her but didn’t hover, showing her he trusted her implicitly, believed in her without any need to micromanage. He knew she could do it. She’d done it even with her arm injured, resting the bow on her uninjured arm to take the shot and down her first rabbit.

She probably could have done that now with her arm still injured, but neither of them wanted to risk it. Not with something as important as this. So she use the railing as support instead and focused all her efforts on lining up the shot as the deer came into perfect view beneath one of the nearby rows of pecan trees. 

Yet again their breathing synced up. He could feel it in the rise and fall of her back beneath his hand as they seemed to think and act as one: _Inhale… exhale… inhale…. exhale…. inhale and sight… exhale and take the shot_. His trigger finger twitched just as hers pulled for real and with his breath all caught in his chest he watched as the bolt sliced through the afternoon air and hit home right in the perfect spot on the doe’s side, sending it tumbling to the ground.

Just like the bolt’s path had been perfectly straight, so were the thoughts in Daryl’s mind as Beth stood up, so excited that her body seemed to quiver with it. She turned to face him and when their eyes met and he felt the air hitch in his lungs, he didn’t hesitate. He took that clear path right to it’s destination, reaching out for her hips and drawing her close to press her lips to his. 

This time was different than the soft kiss beneath the pecan tree. This time as he drew her close she slid her arms over his shoulders and pressed their bodies together; the soft slender curves of her body fitting themselves to the hard lines of his own. The kiss was slow at first but it deepened as her lips parted against his, and when he heard her give a soft breathy moan against his mouth it nearly undid him. It was enough to make his hands curl tighter against her jean-clad hips, enough for him to tug her even closer and groan lightly into her mouth as he kissed her until he was so breathless he had to pull back just to fill his lungs with a deep gasp of air. 

For a moment they just stood there looking at each other, both of them dragging in panting, deep breaths until finally Beth broke the silence. “See?” She smiled at him, slow and sweet and playful all at the same time. “You do know what I meant, about someone making you breathless.” 

Daryl just shook his head but this time rather than just a quirk of his mouth, there was a wry smile on his lips as he squeezed her hips and then stepped back. “C’mon, catch your breath Greene, and let’s get to work on your first doe, alright?” 

Daryl had never been the sentimental type. Never written down his thoughts in a journal, or had a box full of things he wanted to save. He’d never had anything he’d ever really wanted to save, besides his crossbow perhaps. But in the time since meeting Beth he had been saving things in his own sort of way. Memories that would become stories, shared between them or relished just in his mind. 

Memories formed of moments like this. Beth taking down her first deer and turning to him with a fire of excitement lighting up her eyes. Her lips pressed to his and every line of her body, warm and soft but also so very strong, pressed against his. 

They were also formed of moments like the one that followed, with Beth on her knees helping him to slice open a deer she’d brought down with her own hand, not balking from the task but joining into it so eagerly and with so much avid interest that he couldn’t help but find it incredibly attractive and appealing.

In the end, his best memories were made from moments with Beth right at his side. Those were the kind of things he’d save. The kind of things he already was saving, every single day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter... they start heading out towards Terminus. Dun dun dunnnnnnnnnnnnn.
> 
> Also I wanted to thank you all again for continuing to read my fic. If you follow me on tumblr you'll know that lately I've been having a lot of anxiety and self doubt about my writing, and every lovely comment that gets left here always makes that so much easier to handle. Thank you!! <3 I will do my best to update asap again!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth and Daryl leave the Mill behind and begin to make their way towards Terminus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay in getting this up, I meant to have it done yesterday but got sidelined by some bad anxiety. But here I am, and I'm very excited about this chapter! Keep a close eye out if you can and pay attention, you might spot some familiar locations in the chapter below... (I'll be honest, I'm dying to see if you guys figure them out!) Please enjoy.

The sky above had the sort of clarity that often came after a large amount of rain. It was a crisp and clear blue, just a hint of what might have been the beginnings of a rainbow in the distance where the morning sun was coming up over the line of the trees. But as Daryl stood in front of the mill shading his eyes against the sun and peering into the distance, he could see more clouds marring the line of the distant horizon. They had put off leaving the mill for two days after the clouds he had seen on the day of their deer hunt had approached, bringing with them a day and a half of rain. Already he could tell that more autumn rain was approaching, but there wasn’t much they could do about it. If they sat and waited it out, who knew how long the rain would last, or how many storms might follow in it’s wake.

They’d had the discussion last night of course, and Daryl could still remember the slightly longing look on Beth’s face, dimly lit by the glow of the solar powered lamp as she’d glanced around the Mill. In the end they’d agreed it was better to head out now rather than wait; they had the clear weather for at least a day, they had a large supply of venison jerky and canned food and several bottles of clean fresh water. 

Still, as he stood outside the mill and settled his bow against his back, he could sense a hesitancy in the woman beside him. When he looked over at her that hint of longing was on her face again, hazy in her eyes as she glanced back at the mill as if drinking in the sight of it one last time. 

Sensing the weight of his gaze on her, Beth looked back at him and exhaled a soft sigh. He didn’t say a word, but the unspoken question must have been in his eyes because after a moment she just shrugged. “I don’t know, it just… feels a bit like I’m saying goodbye, or something.” Her gaze drifted behind them again to where the worn boards of the mill, visible between the gaps in the thick green kudzu, were illuminated by the sun filtering over the line of the trees. “It was a good place, you know?”

Following the line of her gaze to the mill behind them, Daryl looked it over slowly and gave a low hum of agreement. It had been good, he supposed. Strong and sturdy, it had kept them safe from a herd of walkers, a rain storm, and more. It had also kept them warm, and contained night after night of Beth’s melodious voice reading from one of their books, or Beth tucked against his side sleeping… or Beth kissing him in the heat of the moment after his narrow escape from the herd. 

“Will you remember?” Her question made Daryl blink and squint over at her, his brow furrowed until she went on, “Where it is, I mean.” She hooked one thumb in the loop of her jeans and scuffed her foot on the ground. “Will you remember where it is? Just in case… I dunno, just in case we wanna come back here some day?” 

_Oh_. 

Daryl took a moment to look around once more; not just at the sturdy old mill with it’s clouded old glass windows glistening in the sunlight, but the matted grass that surrounded it and the line of trees that circled the clearing. It was a good place for more than just the memories. If they ever needed a place to stay, this place could be good. It could be defensible, even. For now, he and Beth needed to move on, but if they ever decided to stop moving…

He nodded firmly as his eyes met hers, his voice gruff but honest as he murmured, “I can. And I’ll show you how, too. Right now.” As Beth came up right beside him with that focused look in her eyes that she always got when he was teaching her something new, Daryl began simply, “First, you’re gonna pay attention t’ where the Mill is in relation to the sun. It rises over there every morning, right? Which means that way is East…”

* * *

The plan was to make their way towards the railroad tracks and then once they found them, to walk parallel to them through the woods at the side, both of them having agreed that walking directly on the tracks was too dangerous and too much exposure. Of course the goal was to get to Terminus eventually, but in truth they were in no rush. Daryl knew as well as Beth that when they got there it would no doubt be swamped with walkers, and neither of them had any desire to catch up with the herd or any stragglers they might find along the way. 

Still despite the risk, they knew they needed to stay near the tracks. For his own part, Daryl was torn between knowing it was important to look for signs from their family and also dreading finding any at all. The last signs they’d found, written so callously by Maggie, had _hurt_ Beth in a way he didn’t want to see again. They’d hurt her in a way she didn’t deserve; the way _no one_ deserved really, but especially not Beth.

Maybe that was why he subtly positioned himself to her left, closer to the tracks as they walked, perhaps hoping he’d see any signs before she did. He knew it was likely she’d see any signs he did, but he couldn’t help his desire to shield her. It wasn’t because he thought she couldn’t handle it; she could. She was so goddamn strong he was pretty sure she could handle anything. Maybe it was that _he_ couldn’t handle it; couldn’t handle seeing that look in her eyes, all dim and cold with betrayal and hurt and pain. Couldn’t bear remembering how she’d broken down that first time, crumpling in on herself until he came up behind her and held her until her body stopped trembling.

(Maybe it was that he’d do anything in the world to stop Beth from getting hurt. Physically, emotionally, it didn’t matter. He’d use his bare hands to claw whatever threatened her to shreds, if it came down to it.)

They had yet to see a single sign so far, at least, but that wasn’t the only thing they were keeping an eye out for. Despite the number of supplies they’d collected from the farmhouses around the mill, _not_ looking for supplies was never really an option they’d have considered. Was it ever really, in the world they lived in? Maybe if you didn’t care about surviving. If you cared, though, looking for supplies was pretty much an constant endeavor. So both of them kept their eyes out for anything along the way, including any buildings they might be able to search, though so far they had been unlucky. 

Beside him Beth walked only in relative quiet; every once in awhile he’d hear a hum flitting through the air, growing louder for a moment when she’d catch his eyes in a smile only to fade away a few moments later. It rose and fell casually, accenting their pace in a way that seemed as natural an accompaniment as the chirping of birds in the nearby trees or the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

He was just about to ask her what the latest song was that she’d been humming, when he caught sight of something different in the landscape ahead. Instantly his posture shifted, shoulders straightening, brow furrowing as he moved closer to the tracks at their left and peered into the distance.

“What is it?” Beth’s humming trailed off instantly as she came up beside him. 

Her gaze was fixed on him rather than the tracks ahead, at least until he nodded into the distance and grunted, “You tell me.” 

Following his gaze, Beth turned to follow the line of the tracks, rising up to peer into the distance to the gap in the trees. “Need me t’ lift you up so you can see?” Daryl couldn’t seem to resist the teasing words that slipped from his lips, nor the little smirk that accompanied them.

But it seemed that his instincts with Beth were getting better, judging by the smile on her lips as she glanced over her shoulder at him and retorted, “ _No!_ I’m not _that_ short…” Despite the defensive words, he didn’t fail to notice the way her gaze strayed briefly to his hands, nor the flush that pinkened her cheeks for a few seconds before she turned away.

Focusing again on the tracks ahead visible through the trees, it only took a moment for Beth to spot the difference in the landscape up ahead, the hint of darker stone standing out against the green of the trees. “A bridge?” 

Daryl nodded. “Mm. Somethin’ beyond it, too. Maybe a train station? Probably picked over by now, but…”

“It never hurts to check?” The wry twist to Beth’s lips was a hint at how many times they’d said or thought that in the past, and it had Daryl chuckling softly as he gave a little nod.

“C’mon,” he remarked gruffly after a moment, turning back to the woods. They stayed within the trees until they neared the bridge, only then veering cautiously back towards the tracks. Though everything seemed quiet, neither of them were taking any chances. As he unslung his crossbow from his back he glanced over to see that Beth already had her knife in her good hand as she cradled the other one close to her stomach. He should have known she’d already be prepared. 

They edged their way under the bridge, the shadow of the concrete above them flitting over their bodies as they moved slowly past the tall columns that supported it and made their way down the train tracks. They saw no sign of movement, but as they came out from under the bridge they passed by the corpse of a female walker nearby on the ground by a small railroad sign, her crumbled body curled almost in a fetal position and her long dark hair hanging across her rotted face. Daryl paused to crouch down beside it and examine the body, but there wasn’t much point. Given the decomposition of walkers, it was damn near impossible to tell how long ago it had been killed. “Somethin’ to her head,” he remarked to Beth as he rose from a crouch beside the body. “Can’t tell what, but it don’t look like a knife, anyway.” People used all sorts of shit as weapons these days, anyway. Anything sharp and pointed could get the job done. 

After a moment he grunted and then nodded up ahead to the building sitting on top a platform on the left side of the tracks. It was long and narrow, the walls made from or covered in corrugated gray metal that was stained red with rust from the Georgia rain. Trash was scattered everywhere across the ground and sticking to the trees, blown in from storms and windy days to cling there now, with no one to clean it all up. Old car tires were propped both against the platform and on top it, lining the metal walls around the double doors that lead inside, but still they saw no movement.

They moved slowly and carefull stilly, scoping out the surroundings and peering around the side of the building to make sure there were no walkers (or people) around. Only then did Daryl nod his head towards the steps, and with a grunt he began to lead Beth up the platform and to the old double doors. He had thought the place was some of kind of train station, but there were no ticket booths on the outside that he could see, no benches for people waiting to get on or for someone to get off. So when he opened the doors and the light from outside streamed into the space, he was only half-surprised to see the contents. 

It was a large, open room, with concrete floors and the same corrugated metal walls. Windows high up lit the place somewhat, despite them being somewhat coated in dust and dirt from years of no one paying them any attention. Still it was more than enough to illuminate the contents of the vast space; several old and junky cars, one with it’s hood popped and another with an old tarp on the ground beside it, as well as a junky truck that looked like it might have once been a light blue. They were all arranged amidst large tool cases and other machinery that was all familiar to Daryl almost immediately. It was some sort of auto repair place. 

A hummed ‘huh’ was his only comment for the moment as he made his way inside, bow raised and at the ready as Beth followed behind him and carefully shut the door. There wasn’t a single walker in sight, but it only took a look down to see they weren’t the first people to come inside. “Look,” he grunted, jabbing his bow at the ground in emphasis. 

Coming up beside him, Beth peered down at the dust-covered concrete. After a moment she reached in silence for the lantern that hung from a hook on his back, pulling it free and lighting the switch to shed a clearer light on the grimy floor as she crouched down next to him. “Footprints?”

“Mm. What d’you think?” 

At his encouragement (such as it was), Beth tilted her head in that bird-like fashion, peering down at the prints that marred the dusty floor. “They don’t look like walker prints,” she said after a moment, glancing up at him and then back down at the floor, “They’re too purposeful.” Standing above her, Daryl could see a hint of a smile twitch across the corner of her lips as she added, “I don’t think it’s a drunk man, either.” After a moment, slightly more seriously, she added, “Or _men_ , plural…”

As she rose to her feet again still holding the lamp carefully in her injured hand, Daryl gave a slow hum of agreement. “Definitely more’n one. Maybe three or four? Maybe more, hard t’tell, all the criss-crossing. Don’t reckon they’d have found much here, unless they were lookin’ for tools…” After a moment he stepped closer to one of the cars. The car was covered in dust and grime, too, but he could see fingerprints on the back handle and the window, which made him grunt again as he peered inside. “Might’ve spent the night here. Makes sense.” 

“I don’t know if I’d want to,” Beth murmured after a moment, turning off the lamp but holding it close as she turned in a slow circle. “Place is kinda… creepy, I think. Not sure why, though.”

“What, you ain’t a fan of cars or somethin’?” Daryl raised an eyebrow at her as he kept moving, peering into the back of the truck and then rounding it’s side to rummage through the rusted old red tool chest that stood beside it. 

“It’s not that,” she said with a hint of a smile, though it faded as she moved in a slow circle around the edges of the room, inspecting the shelves on one wall. “I think it’s the openness and the dust and…” As he glanced over at her in the silence of her trailed-off words, Daryl watched as Beth nibbled for a moment on her full lower lip. The straight line of her teeth dimpled the soft flesh as she looked around, eyes wide but sort of distant in a dreamy kind of way that was echoed in her voice after a moment as she said, “It’s feels... forgotten. Every place we go to is abandoned, you know? With the houses it’s different, because it feels like… I dunno, sometimes it feels like the people have just stepped out and might come back at any moment. With the Mill, it had been abandoned so long that it kind of lost that creepy feeling, it was just an interesting old place. But this… I don’t know.” She shook her head. “Something about it sitting here, rusting away, all these cars with their hoods open waiting for people who are never gonna show up to fix them, everything covered in dust and the whole place filled with echoes…” A shiver went right through her, making her tremble before his eyes as she finished, “It just gives me the creeps, I guess.” 

Her words resonated with him, as they always did. This time wasn’t on such a personal level, though. Beth just had this way of seeing things, of describing it in a way that might have been at home in a line of poetry or in one of the books they sometimes read. But rather than try and put that all into words, knowing he didn’t have the same way with them that she did, Daryl just remarked, “Remind me never to take us into no abandoned asylum or somethin’, then.”

“Ugh.” Beth shuddered. “No thank you. We can stick to abandoned mills and hunters cabins, thank you _very_ much.” 

Shaking his head in amusement, Daryl just focused for the moment on inspecting the rest of the room. They weren’t likely to find anything useful when it came to food or water, but at least some of these tools might come in handy… maybe. You never knew. 

Beth circled around the side of one of the cars, pulling the handle on the passenger side and popping open the door. “Good thing it was unlocked, I have no idea how to jimmy these.” 

Her glance over at him had Daryl furrowing his brow. “What, you assuming I do?” 

“I dunno.” She paused for a moment, and smiled. “My brother Shawn used to know how. He was always locking his keys in the car. He used to come up and steal my wire hangers to go back down and pop the lock.”

For a moment he’d tensed up again, even knowing deep down that Beth hadn’t even been close to trying to insinuate something. That wasn’t who she was, not intentionally anyway. He was the one with his hackles up, the one whose own issues made it habitual to assume that people were thinking the worst of him. Lately it came less often but when it did he always felt guilty, for assuming something about her that was so far off the mark.

“Merle taught me,” he said gruffly after a few moments of silence. “How to pop locks like that… how to jump start a car.” He hesitated between the words, but when his voice trailed off, Beth didn’t say anything. Just glanced up briefly and then, with a hum of acknowledgement, went back to peering through the glove compartment of the old car. 

That was another way she had about her. She always seemed to know when to ask questions, and when not to. When it was words that would draw the story out of him, and when it was silence that he needed to fill up with his own voice instead. Just like right now, the quiet seeming to pull the words out of him, “Reckon I was maybe eight, the first time. Maybe younger. Merle was eighteen or so at the time. He’d already been to juvie and now that he was legal, he didn’t want t’ get caught, you know? Didn’t want to do time. Of course he did anyway, but that was later.” 

Sliding a screwdriver into his pocket, he closed the drawer of the tool storage box and moved down to the next one below it. “Wasn’t actually stealin’ cars, then. That came later. Used to like to just take stuff from ‘em and sell it, you know? Stereos, extra cash, stuff like that. Course I didn’t know it, right away. He’d get me to jimmy the locks, figured no one would suspect a kid. If I got caught, I was supposed to say it was my Mama’s car and we’d locked our keys inside or somethin’. And then run.” 

He closed another drawer and moved onto the next as from the corner of his eye he saw Beth pull something from the glove compartment and stick it in her back before closing it. Here at the bottom of the case was a nice looking crow-bar with a pointed end that might come in handy. As he ran his fingers along the smooth metal, he finished, “Didn’t really figure it all out till I was older. After he got kicked out of the army and came back from jail… he taught me how to hotwire at the local garage, you know? All his friends hung out there then, I reckon wasn’t much of it on the up and up. Wasn’t until we were out one night, I must’ve only been like eleven, maybe twelve. He got me to hotwire a car and then we went on a joyride with it… only we got caught.” 

Clutching the crowbar in his hands Daryl closed the drawer and rose slowly to his feet. “Merle had drugs on him. Went to jail for stealing the car, and possession. He got me out of it, though. Told ‘em I was just his kid brother that he dragged along for the ride, and they believed him. I mean I guess I was, in a way. Had no idea what we was doin’ was that bad, you know? Just… wanted to be cool, like Merle was. He went to jail for about a year. Didn’t really come back after that. Called sometimes but never came by except for a day or two every few months.” 

Like that time he’d told her about, though he wasn’t sure if she remembered. She’d been unconscious then, carried in his arms away from the cops he’d killed to save her. He’d tried to wake her up by telling her that story, about how his Pa had beat him and he’d called Merle, and Merle hadn’t come. That had only been a year or two after the car theft incident. As a kid he’d wondered if it was his fault. If he’d disappointed his brother, failed him somehow that night and that was why Merle had run off and almost never come back until Daryl was old enough to go chasing after him instead.

But he knew that wasn’t really it. It was just how Merle was. How their Pa had made him. Always running, never looking back. 

“Here,” Daryl said after a moment, his voice rougher than usual with the weight of the stories he was telling her. He offered up the crowbar carefully, finally meeting her eyes. She was sitting inside the car but climbed out slowly as he went on, “Could be good sometimes, when you don’t wanna get as close as y’ have to with the knife. Strap it to your bag, maybe, or hook it in your jeans, might work.” 

Though she hadn’t said anything about the story he’d just told, as she reached out to take the crowbar Beth’s fingers brushed against his own and lingered, curling over his hand for a few long seconds before she gently tugged the new weapon free. As she slipped it into the belt loop on her jeans, she broke the silence to say, “Messed up as it was back then… I guess it comes in handy now, doesn’t it?” 

Daryl furrowed his brow at her, caught between the story and the crowbar and his own thoughts about his brother’s absence being somehow his fault. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, but before he could ask what she meant Beth went on, “Being able to pop the locks on car doors and hotwire them. I mean, it’s not like everyone left their keys in their cars, right? I mean it’s just another skill of yours that’s incredibly useful now, just like hunting and tracking and being able to tell the weather the way you do…” 

What was funny was that he hadn’t ever even thought of it like that. How many times had he hotwired a car these last couple years out on runs and shit, and it had never occurred to him that knowing that skill all came down to Merle teaching him shit no one should’ve taught a kid his age? 

Though he grunted in agreement, there was a hint of gratefulness in Daryl’s eyes as he looked up at Beth and nodded, slowly and simply. A hint of thanks to her, for reminding him of crap like that. Making him see the connections he never seemed to notice, because the things he knew how to do didn’t ever really originate from any happy sort of memories. 

“Maybe you could, I dunno…” Glancing over at her where she stood by the open car door, Daryl watched as Beth scuffed her foot on the ground. “Maybe you could teach me? You know, how to pop open the locks, and how to jump start cars… if you want, anyway. It could come in handy…”

One hand holding his bow and the other stuck in the pockets of his jeans, Daryl took a step closer to her. “You think?” 

“Daryl…” Her voice was breathy, her eyes all big and wide with sweetness and admiration as she went on, “If it were up to me, I’d learn everything you know how to do. I think every single bit of it is important.” 

The way she said that, so honest and sure… there wasn’t any way he could stop how the tips of his ears got all hot again, or the way he ducked his head and cleared his throat to hide the flustered expression on his face. But after a moment he said simply, “Alright. Let’s look for somethin’ we can use, to practice gettin’ a locked door open… We’ll start with that and then maybe eventually, I can teach y’ how to hotwire a car.”

As he turned to the tool chest and started rustling around for some kinda thick wire or something else they could use, Daryl gave a chuckle that rumbled through his chest, and glanced over his shoulder at her to tease, “Gonna make a pretty criminal out of you yet, girl.” 

“Pretty, huh?” She grinned at him, and damn if the brightness of her face didn’t light up this whole dusty place better than all the sun shining through them clouded windows. “Well I’m all for that, then.”

* * *

After their window popping lesson and a brief stop for a lunch of venison jerky and pecans, Beth and Daryl had left the abandoned automotive train stop and continued along down the tracks. The afternoon sun was hot overhead, and the tracks arched through a series of large open fields, which meant they had little to hide under for shade unless they veered much farther away from the railroad. 

After the signs they’d seen in the last building, they decided to stay closer to the tracks for now, until they reached the woods again at least. It was impossible to tell who had left those footprints back in the abandoned automotive shop. It could have been people from their group, but it just as easily could’ve been another group of people entirely; strangers, good or bad. He didn’t think the tracks were too recent, but it was almost impossible to tell. The recent rain had wiped out a lot of the markings along the railroad tracks, especially since these were so out in the open. But if it was their group they wanted to stay close and keep their eyes out for any signs they might have come through here or might still be nearby.

Ahead of him, Beth was trying to walk perched on one of the rails, arms stretched out to her sides to keep her balance. “You ain’t so bad at that,” Daryl remarked from behind her, noticing the way she managed to keep her balance despite the fact that her ankle was still sore sometimes and bothering her a bit in twinges. Even injured she had a natural sort of grace to her, one that only added to the picture she painted right now, all lit up by the sun.

“I took gymnastics, you know. Only for a couple years when I was a little kid… so by gymnastics I mostly mean a bunch of kids tumbling on mats, although we did get to use a balance beam sometimes. A really low one. They used to make us walk like this-” She began to dip her foot with each step, swooping it down the side and back up with her right foot, then her left, then her right again. “I think my Daddy kinda wanted me to keep doing it, but I was more into music, you know? And Mama always just wanted me to do whatever made me happy. So she took me out of those and- oh! look!” 

Breaking off mid-sentence, Beth hopped off the railing and onto her good leg first, before catching her balance. As she settled, she pointed ahead at a patch of green in the middle of the tracks. “I think that’s a strawberry plant, isn’t it? We used to have them in Mama’s garden, in the back behind the house…” 

Coming up around her side, Daryl watched as she crouched down and gently began to inspect the plant. “Awww… it looks like we missed when they were ripe. There’s one on here still but it’s all rotten now. Rats!” Rising to her feet with a sigh, Beth caught his curious expression and shrugged. “I love strawberries, that’s all. They’re maybe my favorite fruit… although blueberries are right up there, too.” 

His reaction was instinctive; the moment she mentioned missing strawberries Daryl began to scan the ground around them. Maybe there was another plant nearby, something she hadn’t spotted. Strawberries put on runners after all and sprouted new plants. He might be able to find one, surprise her with it… but all he spotted was an old tattered candy wrapper, stuck under one of the railroad ties and flapping in the faint breeze. The writing was smeared from all the rain and exposure to the elements, but he was pretty sure it was an old Big Cat chocolate bar wrapper. 

“How about chocolate?” He asked with a smirk, gesturing with his foot to the wrapper that rustled in the breeze. 

“Don’t get me started,” Beth shot back with a grin and a laugh. “If I start thinking about how much I miss chocolate, you won’t hear the end of it all day. C’mon…” She hopped back up onto the rail and began to walk again, eyes looking ahead to the distance where the tracks merged back into the woods once more. “I’d rather focus on getting back into the shade. Maybe we can find a stream, get some cool water… Lord, that’d be nice.” 

He knew what she meant. They had plenty of water in the bottles in their bags, but it’d be nice to find some running water, nice and fresh and cool, to maybe splash on their faces too.

So listening for running water got added to the mental list in his mind as they continued to follow the tracks towards the trees up ahead, right below ‘keep an eye out for strawberry or blueberry plants’ and just above ‘look for signs of the others’. The signs were important, sure… but he had a feeling finding some strawberries would really make Beth smile, and _that_ was important, too. Especially to Daryl.

* * *

It was late afternoon and edging towards evening by the time he finally heard the telltale babble of water off to their left. The clouds had caught up faster than he’d expected, covering the sun in thick gray bands as darker ones brewed a short distance away. They’d been back under the trees for a little while now, and though he hadn’t spotted any strawberries, at least he could lead them to some running water. When he veered away from the path they’d been following parallel to the tracks, Beth followed without question. 

From the corner of his eyes he saw her perk up as she heard the stream up ahead, and he felt another hint of pride in how good she was getting at stuff like that. Not quite as fast as him, but getting there. Of course she only got better by keeping at it and that meant challenging her when he could, keeping her thinking on her toes. “How big, d’you think?” 

“Ummm…” She cocked her head and turned it a bit towards the direction of the water. For a second he imagined her ears perking up and almost chuckled at the image of it, even as she responded, “Bigger than the one back by the mill, but not a river or anything. Maybe a small stream?” 

He said nothing in response, no clarification or correction or even a good job. Just lead her to the trees until they stepped onto the rocky bank of a small stream flowing past them with a babble of water over rocks, light flickering through the branches of the trees above to cast light on the running water below.

For her part, Beth just gave a proud smile as she looked up and downstream and them made her way down the bank of it to kneel by the edge. Soon she was dipping her hands in and bringing them up to her face, taking a long sip of the cool water as he came to kneel beside her. “Not bad?” When she hummed in agreement he swung his bow carefully onto his back and leaned in to follow suit, scooping up water in his hands to sip at with obvious relish. These days, water fresh from a clean stream was as good as a glass of it had been back in the day, nice and cool with ice cubes. 

He thought Beth felt the same way, thought she relished the water the same as he did… until suddenly he felt it splash right across the side of his face. “What-” He turned towards her, but didn’t even have time to finish that question before she was splashing him again, scooping up water in her hands and flinging it at him with a delighted giggle.

It was that giggle that got him, really. How often did he get to hear her like that these days, so clearly delighted, so obviously having fun? How could he not want to hear it again? “That’s it,” he growled, wiping his face with the back of his hand even as a hint of a smirk crossed her lips, “You’re gonna get it, Greene.” 

That was pretty much how it turned into an all-out water war, the two of them knelt in the grass at the bank of the stream, using their cupped hands to dip into the water and splash it on each other until their faces and hair and clothes glistened with the clear droplets and Beth finally back onto the bank, seemingly unable to stop giggling.

“You surrender?” He let the water fall through his hands back into the stream before he shifted on his knees to look over her where she was stretched out on her back on the grass beneath him. God, was she pretty. The prettiest damn girl he’d ever seen… every day really, but especially right now. Her hair had come loose from it’s ponytail and was now spread out around her head against the grass. Water glistened in the blonde strands and on her cheeks and nose and her soft pink lips as she watched him with those bright blue eyes all full of happiness.

“You’ve got a little somethin,” he murmured, reaching out to brush his thumb across her cheek, the pad of it chasing away a few droplets of water. 

“Oh yeah?” She smiled up at him all slow and sweet, the water that clung to her lips shining in the light that filtered down through the trees. “Anywhere else?” 

Yes. God yes. But he didn’t say that, didn’t respond at all out loud anyway. He didn’t need to. He just leaned in nice and slow, giving her time to stop him if she wanted. But she didn’t, and he couldn’t have been more grateful as his lips pressed to hers and he kissed away those dew-like drops of water, tasting them on his tongue before they were replaced by the sweet warmth of her mouth. 

As they kissed, Beth’s hands came up to splay against his chest, her fingers curling into his shirt as they both got caught up in the moment. All that mattered was her lips against his, and nothing more. Not the dampness that made his shirt cling a bit to his chest, nor the droplets of water from his hair that fell onto her face, or the rumble of thunder in the distance…

_Wait._

Another rumble echoed through the sky a few seconds later and he broke the kiss with a sigh of regret that showed in the way he stayed near to her, leaning over her and searching her eyes for a long moment before he murmured, “Storm’s gonna catch up soon. We should find someplace to ride it out for the night. C’mon…”

And with a groan of reluctance he climbed to his feet and offered her his hand to help her do the same. Before they got moving again though, Beth looked up at him with a slow smile and murmured, “You’ve still got a little something…” 

There must have been a drop of water on his mouth, too… or maybe it was just an excuse. If it was, he certainly wasn’t going to complain when that excuse got him the Beth’s lips brushing against his again, lingering for a few perfect moments as she rose up on her toes in front of him to keep her lips pressed softly to his. 

It was enough to have a faint smile on his lips even when she stepped back, even as they filled their bottles up from the stream and turned and headed back towards the train tracks. The thunder rumbled ominously in the distance but for the moment anyway, the only water that lingered in his mind was the kind that glistened on Beth’s pink lips and tasted cool and sweet on his tongue when he gently sucked it away.

* * *

The memory of those kisses swirled around in his mind for the next hour or so as the sky around them began to gradually darken and the rumble of thunder got closer and closer despite them not finding any sign of some place to stop for the night. He knew they could hole up somewhere under a blanket, but that wasn’t gonna do shit in normal rain let alone a thunderstorm. They needed a place to shelter for the night, something with a roof they could keep over their heads.

The longer they went without finding one the more frustrated Daryl got, and the less he thought about Beth’s lips in favor of focusing on the problem at hand. The sky was getting darker and darker, helped along by the setting sun, and Daryl was so stressed by his inability to find them a place to stay that he began to growl as he strode through the woods parallel to the tracks.

“Daryl-” Beth hissed, hurrying to catch up to his long strides and reaching out to curl her fingers around his arm. All around them the air had gotten cooler, the wind whipping stronger around them, making the tree branches sway and Beth’s hair swirl all around her face even when she tried to brush it back. “Daryl slow down, we’ll find something, we just need to take a minute and _relax_ -”

As she spoke she curled her fingers tightly around his arm and tugged, and finally he stopped… and it seemed like it was just in time. As he looked over at her thunder crashed almost right overhead, loud enough to make his bones shake but not as startling as the flash of lightning that flickered through the sky to hit a the top of a nearby try with a crack and a sizzle that made Beth jump beside him.

But it wasn’t the lightning that scared Daryl. It wasn’t the lightning that had him reaching instinctively for both Beth and his bow, all at the same time. It was what that flash of light illuminated just ahead. In the flash of lightning he saw through a break in the trees and there, milling around what he thought might be some kind of animal corpse in the middle of the train tracks, were somewhere over 20 or 25 walkers. 

And at rumble of thunder that followed, echoing overhead, at least half of them turned to look right their way. 

“ _Shit._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you spot the familiar locations/scenes? I hope so, though I won't spoil it by giving it away even here. Thanks again for being such faithful readers. I love all of your comments, they really help keep me going when my anxiety gets bad, so thank you so much!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fleeing from both walkers and a storm, Daryl and Beth find a place to hide that turns out to be very tight quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm reeeeeeeeeally happy about this chapter and for different reasons than the last one. This is a bit of a nice Bethyl interlude chapter, so I hope you enjoy it!

“ _Shit_.” Daryl’s whispered curse was lost in another rumble of thunder overhead, but there was still no doubt they’d been spotted. In fact more than half of the small herd had turned towards them, the bloodied maws of a few of the walkers opening to issue low, hungry groans as they fixed their dead gazes on Beth and Daryl.

His hand twitched to reach towards Beth, but instead he caught himself and slung it around for his crossbow, even though he knew they were outnumbered. “Too many to fight,” he whispered, keeping his eyes on the walkers even as he saw Beth in the corner of his vision sliding her new crowbar from the loop of her jeans. 

“They’re just gonna chase us, if we run. Even if we find shelter…” Her voice was low but strong, despite the hint of a shudder that ran through her body at those words. He knew what she was remembering, knew neither of them wanted to spend another night trapped somewhere with walkers groaning all around them, desperate to get in and tear them apart.

Risking a glance around even as one or two of the walkers began to trundle towards them, Daryl murmured, “We need a distraction. Somethin’ to shift their focus long enough for us to get away…” 

Thunder rumbled overhead and lightning flashed, zig-zagging through the sky in a fingered branch that found a home at the top of a nearby tree in a loud and flashy _crack_. As both of them watched, the heads of the walkers turned towards the flash, but only for a moment. Only until it faded, and then their attention was no longer held. 

But the lightning seemed to have sparked something else, too. Something that lit up Beth’s eyes and brightened her voice as she murmured thoughtfully, “Something flashy.” Just as he turned to look at her with a question on the tip of her tongue, she reached into her front pocket and then drew out her closed hand as she remarked, “Something like this?”

Her hand opened and there, nestled against the pale skin of her palm was... a road flare. 

Almost nonchalantly, Beth explained, “Found it in the glove compartment of that car, back in the garage by the train tracks, and I thought it might come in…” 

Before Beth could even finish Daryl was lifting his hand to briefly cup her face, his thumb gliding over her cheek as he looked into her eyes and breathed out in a rough whisper, “You’re fucking amazing, Greene, you know that?” 

Whatever she might have said in the seconds that followed, in that moment full of her big eyes holding his and her breath hitching in her chest, it was lost in a crash of thunder overhead that made both of them jump and quickly look back at the slowly approaching herd of walkers.

If they were gonna act, they needed to act _now_. 

He reached out in a swift smooth motion, taking the flare from her hand and fumbling with it until he located the cap in the growing darkness. With a twist of his wrist he removed the cap, spun it around, and began to briskly grind the end of the flare against the striking surface at the end of the cap. It didn’t take much, just a few quick movements and suddenly he was holding the flare away from his body as the tip of it sprayed fire in a bright flash. 

Already the walkers were looking, and with a grunt he raised his hand back and released it in an arc, tossing the flare to the opposite side of the tracks and back in the direction they’d come. As soon as the flaming stick hit the ground the walkers were turning towards it, arms outstretched, their groans mingling with the rumbles of thunder in the air above as they trundled down the tracks towards the sparking, sizzling flare.

He didn’t need to say a word to Beth. Just one look, one brush of his hand down her arm and she was right there with him, darting through the woods on the safe side of the tracks and sticking to the shadows as best they could as they hurried to get out of sight of the mini horde of walkers.

Things might have been easier if that was all they were outrunning, but of course it wasn’t. Thunder crashed overhead, lightning flickered and sizzled, and it seemed like no sooner had they left the walkers behind and darted back to the empty, open path of the railroad tracks than the skies above opened up and down came the torrential rain.

“Keep movin’,” Daryl grunted, even as the rain pouring down soaked through his clothes in what felt like only seconds. 

At his side Beth only panted, too focused on running (and presumably trying not to re-injure her ankle) to do anything else. At least not until the light of the flare was no longer visible behind them and instead in the distance, the glint of lightning on glass had her pointing and crying out, “There!” 

It took a few more strides before they were close enough to see the shape of it through the darkness and the rain, but another flash of light went overheard and illuminated the metal shape; it was a work van, driven off a small access road to the tracks and crashed, half in the thicket of overgrown bushes at the side of the dirt road. It wasn’t much, but it was something. A contained space, doors to close, cover overhead… that was, if they could get into it.

“We won’t be able to jimmy the back doors,” Daryl called out, raising his voice over the loud thunder overhead as he gestured at the single handle and keyhole lock. The storm was almost on top of them now, making the ground rumble with it on top of making it hard to hear. “We’re gonna have to go in from the passenger side…” 

Beth was already unslinging her backpack and reaching in for the wire he’d gotten at the garage by the railroad tracks. The moment she pulled it free she offered it up to him, but Daryl instantly shook his head. “Uh uh. This is all you, girl. Go on.” He gestured towards the door and then added gruffly, knowing the teasing would motivate her and help her feel less anxious all at the same time, “I’d like to get out of this rain… any day now Greene…” 

If she thought it was a bad idea, she didn’t argue. It was one of the numerous things Daryl liked about Beth. She took your trust at it’s face value. She wouldn’t argue, or knock herself by claiming she wasn’t capable. If she thought you believed she could do something, then she’d damn well try it. Just like she was now, peeling back the weather stripping on the window of the van and gently inserting the curved end of the thick wire in the gap beneath it.

In his head he gave encouragement, but out loud he said nothing. He trusted her. She’d picked this up fast enough in the garage, and despite the loud and wet conditions, she could do it here just as well here. Sure enough it was only a minute before he heard a decisive ‘click’ as she hooked the end of the wire under the small pin and pulled it to disengage the lock.

“Got it!” Beth exclaimed with a grin that was faintly visible as lightning arced through the sky, lighting up a face that glistened from the rain. 

She was already climbing onto the passenger seat as he remarked, “Ain’t as nimble as you, girl. Climb in the back, see if you can’t unlock the back for me?” His words were gruff, but his pride showed on his face and it lingered, deepening when he moved around to the back of the van just in time to see the doors swing open.

“See?” He climbed into the back of the van, dripping water everywhere as he reached out and carefully pulled the door shut behind them. Only once they were safely inside did he turned to her and add in a low, slightly-rough voice, “Told you I’d make a pretty little criminal out of you.” 

Her gaze lingered on his for a moment, undeniable warmth in her eyes before she ducked her head slightly and breathed out, “A pretty _wet_ little criminal…” 

“That too,” he chuckled, looking down at his own soaking wet clothing as he knelt in the back of the small work van. Above them thunder crashed, making the walls of the van vibrate faintly as water continued to pour rhythmically down the sides. “We should get changed out of these clothes…”

If Daryl had spoken without thinking then he acted without thinking too. It was instinct that had him stripping off his vest and his jacket, leaving him in only a black, button-down shirt with the sleeves cut off and his sopping wet jeans. It was only when he looked up that he found himself freezing, found himself realizing he wasn’t the only one who had acted without thinking Because there was Beth just a few feet away from him, her flannel shirt on the ground as she stripped off her tank top to reveal the worn off-white bra she had on underneath. The pale fabric was soaked through and fuck if he couldn’t see a hint of the dusky rose of her nipples beneath the fabric that clung to her chest. 

His breath hitched in his chest again at the sight of her and he knew he should turn away. He knew he should turn his back to her, give her privacy to change out of her wet clothes and into something dry (if they _had_ anything dry), but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t look away, not when she was right there, not when she had lifted her own gaze to meet his and despite the flush to her cheeks she showed no sign of turning away, either. 

Beth just stayed right there, kneeling a couple feet away from him, her chest rising and falling with her slightly-ragged breaths as her eyes held his. God, she was so damn beautiful. Skin so soft and pale, her eyes so big and bright even in the darkness, her hair curling in wet tendrils stuck to her skin. He couldn’t have looked away even if he’d wanted to, and he didn’t. He wanted to drink her in, he wanted to never have to look away from her ever again. She was that radiant. 

And she had a pull to her, like gravity. Like he couldn’t seem to help moving on his knees towards her, narrowing down the gap from two feet to one, until he was close enough to hear the sound of her shorter breaths through her parted lips as she tipped her head back and looked up at him.

In the silence accented only by the drumming of rain across the roof of the van, he found himself lifting his hand again to cup the side of her face. It fascinated him how she could be so strong, so fierce, and yet so small. Her face felt so tiny against his hand and yet the curve of her cheek seemed to perfectly fit the shape of his palm. Her skin was damp, but it was so soft against the rough of his palm, too, and the brush of his thumb across it was almost like touching a rose petal, slightly damp with morning dew. 

The path his finger took across the curve of the apple of her cheek was accented by a little intake of breath from Beth, whose eyes never once left his as she exhaled in a soft sigh. She didn’t pull away, either. Instead she tilted her cheek gently against his hand, encouraging him to brush his thumb across her soft skin once more even as the tips of his fingers gently curled into the wet tendrils of her hair. 

It was a moment that felt intensely intimate, but it wasn’t because of where they were. It wasn’t because of the tightness of the enclosed space, or the thunder and rain echoing around them. He knew in his gut that this would have felt just as intimate even if they’d somehow been in the middle of a field full of people. Even then it would have felt like it was only the two of them, as if for that moment everything around them- from each person right down to each single blade of grass- faded from existence. 

All that mattered was the silk of her skin beneath his palm, and the smile that graced her lips as her eyes fluttered half shut and she hummed in pleasure at the touch. At _his_ touch. In truth, the fact that she was responding in this way was just as incredible to Daryl as the fact that he was touching her at all, and yet it seemed right. It seemed natural. 

Just as it did to lean in, close the gap between them, and once again press his lips to hers. The slow kiss lingered as her hands rose between them to press against his sleeveless shirt, making the damp fabric cling to his skin as he groaned against her lips. One of his hands remained tangled in her wet hair, but the other came down to curl over the curve of her hip. He felt so acutely aware of where the fabric of her jeans ended and her skin began, the warm softness of it enough to make his hand tingle with the urge to feel more, to brush his hand up over the dip of her waist and explore the expanse of her flat stomach…

His hand had just begun to do that, fingers splaying wider as he ghosted his touch up to glide over the dip of her waist, when Beth broke the kiss with a soft gasp and pulled slightly back. 

Instantly he froze, hand tensing where it was as his shoulders went tight. He opened his mouth, on the brink of apologizing for daring to touch her, but before he could she shook her head. “No. It’s not… don’t apologize.” She giggled softly, her cheeks flushed as she pointed at him. “I _see_ you about to apologize. You’ve got that… that look in your eyes like you think you did something wrong and lord, Daryl-” Suddenly Beth’s voice was breathy again, her eyes holding his to make sure he saw the solemn truth in them as she exhaled, “You haven’t done anything but _right_. I promise. It’s just…” And here she flushed again, ducking her head briefly before peering up at him from under her lashes to add with a little laugh, “Do you have any idea how _uncomfortable_ soaking wet jeans are?” 

His own laughter rumbled in his chest, mingling with the vibrations of the thunder that now seemed to be directly ahead of him. Looking down at his own soaked jeans, he grunted with a hint of a wry smile, “Think I got some idea…” 

“We should, um…” Seemingly flustered, Beth looked down between them and then to her backpack, which was just as wet as her clothes were, frankly. He had a feeling his were just as bad, though he was hoping something towards the center of the bag might have avoided getting soaked. 

“Tell you what,” Daryl remarked, pointedly ignoring (for now anyway) the fact that at some point they’d both need to strip off their pants, at which time they’d be barely dressed in this very confined space, “Let’s see if anything in our bags is dry, and if we can find anythin’ in this van too and then we’ll… uh… figure somethin’ out.” 

It was better than no plan at all, anyway, so with the taste of her lingering on his lips and the palm of his hand still warm with the memory of her skin, Daryl turned his focus to rummaging through his bag as Beth did the same with her own. 

A few minutes later and they had a better grasp of their situation. The van turned out to be some kind of work van, he assumed for whoever took care of this section of the railroad tracks. Most of it was useless to them, but the driver seemed to be the type to always be prepared; the tools were no use, but they found a folded up blanket behind the passenger seat, as well as a spare sweater hanging over the driver’s seat. In his own bag, Daryl had found a pair of jeans that was relatively dry, but all the rest of his clothes seemed as damp as the sleeveless shirt he had on his back. Beth unfortunately hadn’t fared as well; pretty much everything in her bag was soaked through, minus a spare pair of socks. 

The time spent searching hadn’t helped when it came to making a plan. He was just as clueless now as he had been then, equally as a loss for what to do next… and then, as he set his single pair of jeans on top of the dry folded blanket, he glanced up at Beth. She was shivering; even in the darkness he could see that. She had her arms wrapped around her chest, covering the thin fabric of her bra as she trembled there, kneeling on the carpeted floor of the back of the van. 

Not having a plan went right out the window, because seeing her like that left him with no choice but to spring into action. “C’mere,” he murmured, voice brisk but caring as he rubbed his hands down her arms. “Pants off, and drape them over the back of that chair. Then you put on that sweatshirt, okay? S’big enough that it’ll cover most of you. Go on now.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Pants off, Greene.” 

Her teeth chattered but she didn’t protest, already reaching down for the button on her jeans as she teased back in a hitching voice, “Not ex-exactly how I imagined you s-saying that to m-me for the first time…” 

“Oh yeah?” Taking refuge in playfulness rather than focusing on the fact that she was right now sliding her wet jeans over her hips while he unbuttoned his own and followed suit, Daryl teased right back in a gruff voice, “That the kinda thing you imagined before, Greene?” 

Slipping one leg free, Beth sat back on her ass and leaned forward to tug off her pants entirely, giving another shiver as she glanced up at him and admitted with a tremulous little smile, “Maybe I have…” 

“Well…” Daryl’s voice grew rougher and he cleared his throat as he kicked off his jeans, focusing as best he could on slipping on the dry pair rather than on the tightness of his wet boxers, or the fact that Beth was sitting right there in nothing but her wet and near-transparent bra and panties. “I ain’t a fan of disappointin’ you, so…” He slid his legs into his jeans and climbed back to his knees, deftly buttoning him up as his gaze found hers in the darkness to murmur with an unexpectedly warm hint of promise, “Maybe we say this one don’t count as the first time. Deal?” 

For a few seconds her eyes held his and then she blushed as she reached for the sweater he was now pointing emphatically at. As she tugged the sweater on over her head, he heard her muffled reply through the fabric, “Deal.” 

And when her head popped out of the opening in the sweater and her eyes met his, Daryl was pretty sure that the shiver that went through her wasn’t just from the cold. 

After a moment he reached for the clean, rolled up socks, handing them to her insistently. As she put them on he focused on hanging up their clothing to dry as best he could, using the backs of the seats to drape the fabric. His boots and hers were stuck in a corner by the back door, ready to be put on if by some chance they needed to run, and the wet folded up blanket that Beth had been keeping in her bag was unfolded and hung up from the ceiling, using clips he found among the numerous shelves that lines the side of the van. The blanket had a dual purpose like this; it would dry, first of all, but hanging it up between them and the front seats meant it would block any light they lit, and stop it from shining through the windows at the front of the van.

By the time Beth had finished tugging on the socks Daryl had turned on the solar lamp and used it’s light to carefully checked the two paperbacks she’d had wrapped up in her blanket (thankfully dry for the most part), before setting their bags against the back door beside their boots. Only then did he turn to Beth and take in the sight of her kneeling there in nothing but socks and an oversized sweater, her hair clinging to her cheeks and her tiny frame still trembling. 

“C’mere,” he said gruffly, without hesitation. 

“Daryl…” Her attempt to protest was cut off by a firm look as he shifted to sit back against the side of the van and unfolded the blanket they’d found a few minutes ago. He’d already decided he was going to do what it took to keep her warm, no matter what. He just hadn’t decide what was the best route to take with that. He could wrap her up in the blanket and hope that did the trick, or...

A familiar voice echoed through his mind in a low whisper: “ _Body heat, baby brother._ ” Okay, so Merle might’ve been a perv, but the man (or the memory of his voice) did have a point, regardless. He was cold and she was cold, and he knew without a doubt the best way to fix that.

He just had to focus on the practicality of it all. That was what he told himself as he wrapped the blanket around his back and opening his arms, inviting her not only into the blanket, but also his embrace.

_It’s practical_ , he told himself as she crawled slowly forward into the space between his spread knees, her body framed between his legs. 

_It’s practical_ , he firmly reminded himself as she hesitated only a moment and then turned to curl sideways, leaning in until her side rested against his chest and her cheek pillowed against his shoulder so that her nose lightly brushed his neck.

_It’s practical_ , he insisted again as he closed the embrace, wrapping her up in both his arms and the blanket, making a warm cocoon around them both and pressing them closer together than they had possibly ever been so far, even that night when they’d ended up hiding side-by-side in the trunk of a car.

The insistent reminder of the practicality of this moment began to fade as she curled against him, as he felt her hand splay against the still slightly-damp fabric of his shirt, just high enough that a shift of her hand and her fingers might graze his skin through the gap above the buttons. Any thought of practicality dissipated entirely with the feeling of her breath ghosting over his neck and the way she pressed the tiniest bit closer as thunder crashed and rumbled overhead. 

“I’ve got you,” he murmured thickly, more focused on helping her to stop trembling then he was on reminding himself that this was strictly practical. (Because it wasn’t, and of course he knew that beneath the excuses.)

“I’ve got you too,” she murmured back, tipping her head just enough so that she could look up at him. It was in looking at her eyes, so full of understanding and _knowing_ , that he realized his body was trembling faintly, too. He just wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or from the intensity of having her so close to him, closer than he thought he’d ever had anyone before… at least sober and willing, anyway. 

It could have been awkward. Maybe it should have been, by all rights. But it wasn’t, and he didn’t have to be a genius to know why he felt so comfortable holding her close and resting his chin on the top of her head as she settled against him. Because it was Beth. Sweet, soft, warm-hearted Beth, curled in his arms and close to his chest, relaxing against him as if she trusted him implicitly and making him realize that he felt the same exact way about her. He trusted her like he’d never trusted anyone in his life.

They stayed like that for at least ten minutes, warming each other’s bodies with the closeness of their own and the thick blanket kept snug around them. When he finally felt her trembling slow and ease, Daryl finally found it in him to break the relative silence and ask softly, “Better now?” 

As she looked up at him, Beth’s gaze had a warmness to it that was beginning familiar now. It was a warmth that reminded him of that day in the barn, or the moments beneath the pecan tree, a warmth that was echoed by the hint of a smile that crossed her lips as she breathed out lowly in reply, “A little bit…” 

In that warm look and that shy but sweet smile, he saw hints of exactly what he could do to make her feel even better. Hell, to make them _both_ feel better. He knew it wasn’t words; because frankly he was shit at words. He was all about action. Once that had been keeping a group moving, hunting and killing and tracking. Now it was about pulling her close in his arms and wrapping his arms around her. Now it was about sliding his fingers beneath the delicate curve of her jaw, tipping back her head, and leaning in to slot his lips against the seam of her own. 

The sigh she exhaled into the kiss told him it was exactly what she’d wanted, exactly what she’d hinted at in that little coy smile. Only this time it was more, too. This time it didn’t stop at firm kisses and the beginnings of gentle caresses over hips or backs. This time somehow, as her lips parted against his, Beth ended up shifting in his lap to straddle his thighs. He only hesitated a moment before his own arms adjusted, keeping the blanket wrapped loosely around them as his hands spanned her back, feeling the curve of it beneath the sweater.

For her own part Beth never broke her lips from his, but managed to encourage him without needing to. When his hands splayed at her back she sighed into the kiss again, and as they began to drift slowly down he heard her give a soft, low noise against his lips. It was one he couldn’t help wanting to hear again so this time, like the last, he let his hands drift. With the blanket resting over her shoulders his hands slid down over her back and then, after only a few seconds of pausing, over the curve of her ass. Here her breathing hitched but Beth didn’t stop, didn’t do anything other than tilt her head just right to deepen the kiss and-- lord, that sound she made. No it wasn’t just any sound, it was a _moan_. Soft and breathy, but a moan nonetheless, and he took it as the encouragement it was. 

Only one hint of hesitation and then he gave in to action instead, trusting his gut (and the signs she was leaving for him to follow) and slipping his hand under the hem of the warm sweater to seek out her far warmer skin beneath it. _Fucking hell_. By most people’s standards, they weren’t doing much of anything at all, but Daryl didn’t give a shit about other people’s standards. All that mattered was his and Beth’s, and the fact that this simple touch of his broad hands against the soft bare skin of her back was far more intimate than anything he’d ever felt in his life.

He couldn’t get enough. He didn’t want to. He could have sat there for hours kissing her like this, tasting her on his lips and tongue, swallowing the soft hums and moans that she spilled into his lips as his hands slid up and down the delicate curve of her back, mapping out her warm skin. 

Hell, he probably would have stayed like that for hours, if they hadn’t been interrupted by a crash of thunder so loud overhead that the whole van shook with it and he and Beth _both_ jumped… only to dissolve into giggles as their wide-eyed gazes met in the gloom that followed. Well, she dissolved into giggles; his was more a low husky chuckle, but still. They ended up just looking at each other, laughing, his hands still on her back and her lips so prettily swollen from their kisses that he was tempted to go right back to kissing her. 

“We should get some rest while we can,” Beth murmured, though she showed no signs of pulling away. 

He nodded, but frankly he wasn’t inclined to pull away either, even though he knew that getting some sleep was important. 

“C’mere,” Beth murmured, slipping off his lap and ensuring that he’d follow her, if only because for the moment he couldn’t seem to bear the loss of her warmth. As he watched she laid out the blanket on the carpeted floor of the van and laid down on it, long legs stretching out from under her sweater as she smiled so sweetly up at him that he felt his heart give an aching throb of need. (And if it was echoed by another ache, somewhere beneath the waistband of his unusually tight-jeans, well, he ignored that. For now, anyway…) 

He didn’t hesitate more than a moment. Just shifted to lay right down beside her on his back, even smiling faintly at the way she instantly fitted herself against his side, slung her arm across his chest, and nuzzled her nose against his neck until he turned and surprised them both by catching her lips with his own in a soft kiss. 

“Get some rest,” she whispered against his lips, stealing one more kiss before she sighed and let her cheek rest against his shoulder. “Goodnight, Daryl…” 

As he wrapped his arm around her and held her close to the warm safety of his broad chest, Daryl’s low words rumbled through them both, “Goodnight, Beth.” And it occurred to him that if she felt safe like this, she wasn’t the only one. He felt safe, too, and it wasn’t because of the locked, secure van, or the instinctive safety that could be found in the confines of a womb-like space. No. He felt safe because of the girl curled up against him, all long legs and tangled wet hair and kiss-swollen lips.

He felt safe because he was with her. She was his harbor in a storm more than a van or any other roof-covered shelter could ever be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, I'm not _entirely_ making them stick to just kissing! They're moving... I mean slowly, but still, this IS a slow burn after all. Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I also hope you're enjoying the more frequent updates! I've found that focusing on this one fic makes the writing come a lot easier to me. And all your comments help so much, every one I get is like a brick in the wall I build up against my anxiety... or something cool and metaphorical like that. Thanks so much for reading!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the train tracks towards Terminus, Beth and Daryl stumble onto more important signs...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updating this. I intended to keep to updating every two days or so, but a lot of stuff has come up recently. I'm dealing with a busy work schedule, and on top of that my landlord sold my building to a new company, and there was a death in my extended family. Suffice it to say my updates may be a bit slow for the next week or so, but hopefully things will calm down. Either way, writing this today at least helped me relax a bit. 
> 
> This chapter ended up all in Beth's perspective, which is a change for this story! It just sort of happened, but I expect we'll be back to Daryl's perspective by the next chapter. Hope you enjoy!

There was something to be said about the way two people got used to each other when they spent everyday together, when it was only them and no one else. It showed itself in so many facets, in so many ways. Not just in things like how familiar their voice got to you, how you could sometimes almost recognize their mood from the timbre of their words, though there was that too, of course. It was also more.

It was the way sometimes they didn’t need to say anything as they walked in the woods together. Like how Beth could tell when Daryl wanted them to go in a certain direction just by the tilt of his head or the slight shift of his body. It was how she wasn’t just acutely aware of his presence but knew exactly where he was right now, just how far to the left and slightly behind her that he stood. It was how she knew that he was just as aware of her, because sometimes he would come up beside her or in front of her and she would see him looking at her from the corner of his eye. Same as how other times when he heard a noise up ahead or off to the side, he would know just where to reach out with his hand to stop her.

That acute awareness of Daryl had never felt as intense to Beth as it had this morning. She had fallen asleep with the taste of him on her lips and woken up to the warmth of his body beneath her own. Somehow in the middle of the night she had ended up essentially on top of him and she’d woken to find her bare legs tangled between the brackets of his, her cheek resting on his chest and one hand splayed just over his heart as the other stretched up by his head. Strong and broad and firm, he had felt better than any mattress she even vaguely remembered sleeping on, and that was due in part to the scent of him that had lingered in the air around her as she’d breathed in deeply. 

At first she hadn’t wanted to move. She’d just wanted to just lay there forever, feeling the warmth of him beneath her, marvelling not just at how their bodies fit together but the fact that this was Daryl she was curled up against, Daryl who was letting her lay on top of him without pushing her away. Daryl who was, she had realized after a few long and relished moments… awake. 

But when she’d lifted her head he’d spoken to her in that silent form of communication they’d become so adept at. A press of his finger to her lips and a tilt of his head towards the side of the van and she’d become aware of the groaning just beyond the walls. A walker passing by, but not a herd, as Daryl had confirmed with a shake of his head. Knowing that they could handle a walker if they had to and that it would probably pass by on it’s own as long as they stayed quiet, Beth had done just that. She’d settled back against him and exhaled a soft sigh.

The silence had provided another benefit. It had given her an excuse not to move, not to shift off of Daryl the way she’d known she probably should have. She might have, if she’d gotten the idea that he was uncomfortable. But laying there, she had felt the tight tension within him ease as his hand had come up to brush down her back casually but affectionately, which she had rightfully taken as silent encouragement to stay right where she was. 

Not that she had needed the encouragement. Night after night she had spent recently tucked against his side sleeping with her cheek on his shoulder or chest but what she had felt this morning lying against him was so much better. It was the sort of closeness that had made her think of the kisses they’d shared, made her think of the night before and his hands slipping under her sweatshirt to run up the bare skin of her back. 

Yet it was also more than that; she knew that now walking beside him in the woods as much as she had known it this morning. She’d never felt as close to anyone as she did to Daryl, not just right now or this morning or last night, but over the last few weeks, too. There was an intimacy in being with him that wasn’t just physical, but emotional. 

She knew that this was only possible because of how close they’d become over all this time spent with just the two of them. Because they trusted each other, perhaps more than they’d ever trusted others before. A year ago she never would have guessed that the man she’d trust over anyone else would be _Daryl Dixon_ , let alone that she would have just this morning found herself curled up against him, the length of his body so firm and warm and _enjoyable_ beneath her own. She also never would have expected that he would have seemed just as willing, that she would have felt his hand running up and down her back, would have looked up to see an almost content and sated look on his face, despite knowing that he was still focused on the sounds beyond the walls of the van. 

Beth watched him now as he slowed to match her pace where they walked through the woods, coming to walk right beside her so his arm lightly brushed her own. It made her remember this morning and the touch of his fingers grazing her cheek and then tucking her hair behind her ear, so soft and gentle. It was a careful sort of affection that at one time she never would have thought Daryl capable of. Now she was learning that the quiet, gruff man could be far less rough sometimes then he came off as. He could be gentle, he could be incredibly caring and protective and, his own way… even sweet. 

That was what had a shy smile curving across her lips as she watched him now, her cheeks flushed the faintest bit pink in memory until he raised a questioning eyebrow and made her shake her head and look up ahead of them. 

Once the walker had passed the van by and they’d had a quiet breakfast, they’d gotten dressed in clothes that were at least _mostly_ dry after spending the night hanging up. Beth had added the sweatshirt to her bag, and pulled on the spare pair of jeans that had been rolled up safe and were thus mostly dry. The other pair, soaked and torn and dirty, she finally decided to give up on and leave behind, though thankfully her boots had dried enough to wear. That, along with her tank top, was her outfit for the day. The flannel, still somewhat damp, was draped from her backpack where she hoped it would dry in the sun, at least in time for this evening when the autumn chill set in.

Not only had the rain been gone when they exited the van but the small herd of walkers was nowhere in sight either. Hopefully they’d been left behind, though as they followed slightly off to the side of the tracks, they both made sure to keep an eye behind them just in case. Even in that they fell into a rhythm; Daryl would glance back, then Beth the next time, as if they’d written down some sort of schedule. Only of course they hadn’t; it was all just in their minds. 

Together they both kept an eye on their surroundings, watching for walkers, for people, for signs of _their_ people. But they also kept their eyes on each other. Beth couldn’t seem to help the way her gaze continued to stray to him, whether he was in front of her or beside her or behind her. She’d rake her eyes over the trees, the ground, even the sky, and then always back to him. She’d study the expression on his face, how he managed to look both alert and relaxed at the same time. She’d watch his movements, try to tell before he spoke if he’d seen something of interest. 

Sometimes her gaze strayed down the length of his muscled arms or across the breadth of his broad chest and she couldn’t help but recall this morning, waking up on top of that strong chest with those firm, heavy arms around her. There were times when she looked at him that she remembered the moments spent in the Mill, their promise to make each other- them- their priority. Sometimes she remembered instead that moment in the barn, lit up with warm sunshine and feeling his lips against hers for the first time.

But other times, she remembered something else. That moment in the funeral home, right before everything went bad. That _moment_ , looking into his eyes and seeing the weight of so much emotion in them, seeing a depth of feeling that had her breathing out a soft, hushed _oh_.

That was how she felt now, every time she looked at him, every time his arm grazed hers or he came up silently beside her to offer her a drink from his bottle, or a couple berries he’d found from a bush alongside the train tracks. It was how she felt every time their eyes met, every time he gave her that little tiny hint of a Daryl smile. Like there was something in her just repeated in a whisper over and over again: _Oh, oh, oh, oh._

She knew if she put her mind to it and really thought about it all, about how she felt, and the things she wanted when she was close to him, and the way he looked at her… she could put it all together. The thing was, she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to analyze it or pick it all apart because that wasn’t what this was. It wasn’t what they were. It was just good, it was just natural, it was just… _them_. She was okay with letting it be, seeing what happened, letting things be the way they felt like they were supposed to. 

She kinda had the feeling Daryl was, too. Not that he was the type to say much to begin with, whether it came to emotions, or any other sort of moment. Even ones like this. Out of the corner of her eye Beth saw him shift, saw the focus of his attention change to something off to their left in the trees. He hesitated just a moment, glancing back at her until he was sure she was behind him and then, with a nod, he led his way into the trees to whatever had caught his attention. 

With him in front of her, Beth couldn’t see what it was until he crouched down in front of it. It was some kind of trap, something built out of tree branches and string. “Is that a…”

“Rabbit snare,” Daryl grunted, reaching out after a moment to run his fingers down over the branch. “Bit old, but not too old. Couple weeks, maybe?” He went quiet but there was something in his eyes, something speculative and unsure, but with the tiniest hint of something like…. hope?

“What is it?” She leaned in slightly, resting her hand on his shoulder until he turned his head to look up at her. His dark hair swept into his eyes and without thinking Beth reached out to nudge it away so she could look into his eyes and try to see what it was he was thinking. 

“Rick.” That was it, just one word, but she knew whatever it was that had gotten him to say that name, it had to be important. Had to be, for him to say the name he seemed to be so hesitant to speak these days, as if forming the vowels and consonants was a painful reminder of the man he had lost-- the man they’d both lost, but especially Daryl. It took him a few moments, but after Beth gave another gentle squeeze to his shoulder, Daryl finished, “Taught him to make traps like this, back after the farm, before the prison…” 

“You don’t think…” Her voice, breathy with the weight of what he was suggesting, trailed off as she examined the trap with renewed interest, trying to imagine the moment it had been made. Had Rick knelt right here, tying these branches together, perhaps pulling a rabbit from within? Had he been alone, or had there been someone with him? Carl, or lord help her... _Judith_? 

“Dunno,” Daryl remarked, hesitantly, unsure. She knew just from the sound of his voice (and of course, what she knew of him) that he didn’t want to sound sure right then and there. He didn’t want to proclaim something that might just turn out to be false. “Lots of people know how to make a trap like this, I reckon. And Rick… he was right in the middle of it all, right down there with the Governor. Always reckoned…” 

He trailed off without saying it, but Beth knew. He’d always figured Rick had died. Heck, Daryl had always figured they’d _all_ died. She knew that, could still hear his voice ringing in her ears. _Everyone we know is dead! Might as well be, 'cause you ain't never gonna see 'em again. **Rick.** You ain't never gonna see Maggie again._

Beth slowly lowered herself beside him, fingers curling over his shoulder as she looked into his eye. “But he did know this trap. So it might’ve been him. He might be alive, somewhere, he might not be alone. And even if he’s not…”

Daryl grunted, and though he didn’t say a word his eyes met hers and she knew that he was thinking exactly the same thing as her. That their thoughts had met, that they were travelling down the same path just like the two of them were every day in person now, side by side. 

_Even if he’s not, we owe it to them to find out._

* * *

Ever since spotting that rabbit trap back in the woods, Daryl had been on edge. Beth could see it in the lift of his head and the way he’d tilt or incline it to study every little sound that echoed through the woods. His shoulders were up, his posture straighter and more attentive… she just wished she could tell if it was a good thing or a bad thing that he seemed so alert like this. She _thought_ it wasn’t a bad thing, at least not yet. He seemed focused but not worried, she could usually tell when he was worried and this wasn’t it, not exactly. 

It was more like he just had a feeling something was coming, or some kind of inkling that it might be. Maybe it was some kind of instinct. Beth wasn’t about to question that. If she’d learned anything over the time spent with just Daryl, it was to trust him and his instincts. 

Which was why when he stilled and held up his hand a couple hours later into the day, Beth stopped without hesitating. This time was different than earlier that morning with the rabbit trap in the woods. This time every inch of him was alert, head lifted, nose… sniffing?

Beth frowned, but when he glanced back towards her and tapped the side of his nose she drew in deep without hesitating. There was something thick and heavy in the air and after what her life had been the past couple years it didn’t take long to place it. Death. Rotting bodies, decomposing flesh, a hint of copper blood…

Watching him with narrowed eyes, she mouthed: _Walkers_?

But he shook his head and cupped his ear and after a moment Beth nodded. If it was walkers they were being pretty damn quiet. No groans or moans carried on the cool breeze that had encouraged her to put her flannel back on an hour or so ago, and there were no sounds of shuffling footsteps through the dead leaves and forest detritus. So then what? Walkers tied down somehow maybe, walkers who were being abnormally silent, or maybe trapped somewhere?

Or maybe it wasn’t walkers at all. Maybe it was dead bodies of the non-moving variety.

The moment the thought occurred to her Beth flashed back to that rabbit trap in the woods and her stomach lurched. _Rick, Carl, Judith…_ She glanced to the left, seeing the railroad tracks just through trees and remembering all those weeks ago by the distant other section of these tracks, the stink of copper blood and all those bodies torn apart, people they’d known, people she’d talked to every day… and that little kid-sized shoe all covered in blood. 

_What if, what if, what if…_

She didn’t say the words out loud, didn’t say anything at all, but maybe she made some low noise in the back of her throat or heck, maybe Daryl could just read her as well as she could read him now. Because there he was just a few inches in front of her, fingers slipping under her chin to tip back her head until she looked up into his eyes. Hold her gaze, he drew in a deep breath, slow and measured until she followed suit and matched his rhythm. _Inhale… exhale… inhale… exhale…_

She latched on to him as if he were her anchor in a raging storm, bringing her back down nice and steady. Her racing heart slowed slightly, her churning stomach settled, and when she exhaled one more time she gave a slow nod. Now wasn’t the time to panic over what might be. They wouldn’t know what it was until they went and checked it out, and she was ready. With him leading the way, Beth was ready for whatever it was that might be waiting for them.

When he was sure she was okay Daryl squeezed her shoulder and then let his hand slip free. After a second he unslung his crossbow and settled it into his hands at the ready, and with a nod Beth slipped her crowbar from the loop of her jeans with her good hand. The heft of it felt reassuring, the weight of it reminding her what damage it could do, that she could use it to protect herself… that was, if whatever was up ahead was the kind of thing she needed physical protection from, and not emotional. 

Rather than approach whatever it was directly, Daryl lead them around the edges, slinking quietly through the woods and moving in a circular motion towards the scent. They moved with barely any noise, taking care with their steps and moving at a slow pace until the smell of rot became thicker and thicker in their noses. 

As they neared the edge of the trees again Daryl held up his hand and Beth came to a spot just beside him, silent and still, peering over his shoulder to the scene on the tracks before them. 

Perhaps it hadn’t been so wrong for her to have flashed back to that other scene on the train tracks, in the days after their escape from the prison. Because here, too, was a eerily familiar scene. Bodies lay scattered across the tracks and alongside of it, the stench of their decomposition and blood filling the air. There were five- no six of them, Beth realized as she spotted one just visible in the bushes on the other side of the tracks. 

None of them moved. None of them had moved in a long time, well over a week and maybe two judging by the decomposition, but Beth and Daryl didn’t take any chances. It was Beth who reached down after a moment for a rock, tossing it with careful aim to make it clang on the train tracks. The sound would have been enough to draw their attention if they’d been walkers, but not a single one of the bodies moved and so after a few moments of anticipation, Daryl broke their stillness and stepped out of the edge of the woods towards the train tracks.

Closer now she could see that all six of the bodies were male. They seemed to be dressed mostly in dark clothes; through the stains of blood she saw jeans, flannel shirts, jackets and hoodies. Their bags lay beside them, one or two torn open, belongings strewn around their corpses as if maybe they’d been raided. But that wasn’t the most unexpected thing, no. What had both Beth and Daryl stopping in their tracks to stare down at a pair of bodies laying over the tracks was one very particular thing.

Both had been beheaded. 

“Daryl…” 

But he was already crouching down by the bodies, leaning in to inspect the wound and Beth couldn’t help but follow him. She dropped into a crouch next to him, trying to see what he saw. “See how smooth this is?” Daryl gestured down at the neck of the headless body, and to Beth’s credit her stomach didn’t even churn as she listened and watched. “No jagged marks… one smooth slice. Not like a machete, or a sword. Plus….” 

He trailed off for a moment and looked up at her, and the look in his eyes wasn’t guarded. She could see right into his expression, all the churning emotions she knew she was feeling too, only magnified as he said, “I’ve seen wounds like this before. We both have.” 

Beth closed her eyes, but only for one moment. Because when she did it was one particular memory that flashed into her mind and made her tremble, her Daddy’s lips curving up in a slow smile and then, and then, and then…

_No._

Feeling the weight of Daryl’s hand on her knee she slowly opened her eyes, looked at him, and exhaled in a sigh. “Do you think it’s… Michonne? Or the Governor…” 

Daryl rose slowly to his feet. “Could be him. But I dunno why he’d keep her weapon. He only used it when he did to make a point, and this… these bodies like this, this kinda precision, there ain’t no way it could be him. He ain’t that graceful.” 

“So… so Michonne is- _was_ , anyway--”

“Maybe.” But the Daryl peered down at the ground, studying something that had him moving in a slow arc around to another body. This one had a thick head of once-grey hair now stained in the same blood that coated the back of the jean vest he wore over a black shirt. It didn’t take much looking to figure out what the blood came from, or what it meant, even before Daryl went on, “But she weren’t alone. Someone else did this. Shot right to the head. This one and that one, too.” 

Beth followed him, coming to a stop on the tracks and peering all around them. The sun was beginning to lower, though it hadn’t yet reached the trees, and the area they were standing in was pretty well lit. Enough for her to study the ground all around them, brow furrowed as she asked, “Can you tell what happened? From the tracks they left, or…”

“Dunno. All this rain, wiped most of it away. Hard to tell.” Standing up from a crouch, Daryl brushed his hands off on his knees and began to move again in a slow circle. “If I had to guess, I’d say these six were ambushed. Whoever it was- Michonne, maybe, and someone else- came at them from within the woods. One on either side, see how the three that got killed by the machete are on this side of the tracks, and the ones that got shot are over there? Except this one…” Daryl crossed over the tracks to the man who was half in and half out of a bush. “Knife to the head,” he murmured after inspecting the man’s head carefully. 

“The person- guy, I think, but I dunno- with the gun was over here. He grabbed this guy maybe when he got close, knifed him to the head. Seeing him fall would have caught the rest of them’s attention…”

Beth found herself not just nodding along but speaking, too, the words coming out of her from that place inside, that place she associated with Daryl’s easy, instinctive way of seeing things. “Michonne was over here, she must have taken advantage. Come out from behind them, took those two out and went for the other while the other man...” 

Daryl nodded and then nudged the body in the bush with his foot, right at his hip where an empty holster rested. “Took his gun. Shot this guy here, and this one, and then Michonne must’ve taken out the last one. Sliced him right across his side when he was turning, and then got him in the head.” 

“And the guy. The guy who was with her. You think maybe…” She closed the distance between them, slowly but surely, not daring to look away from him as she breathed out, “Maybe it was Rick?” 

It didn’t surprise her that Daryl shrugged, that he might still be hedging his bets. They didn’t know. They _couldn’t_ know, and though she felt hope blooming inside of her, she couldn’t expect him to react to it in the same way. That shrug for now, was enough for her. Because it wasn’t denial. It wasn’t a no, it was a _maybe_.

After a few moments, Daryl spoke again, “They went through their stuff, or started to. Tore open some of their bags, must’ve taken their weapons… but the gun shots would have attracted attention, maybe some walkers. See the bite marks, on their limbs? It was after they were dead, that’s why there ain’t as much blood. Bodies still warm, walkers wouldn’t have cared… If there were enough of them that came, must have scared Michonne and whomever else off, before…” 

His eyes narrowed and his voice trailed off and Beth turned instantly, trying to figure out what he was looking at. One of the two bodies that had been shot in the head was laying by the tracks; this one with long and lanky dark hair, a thick beard, and a blood-stained hoodie. It had been bitten viciously, one of it’s limbs torn off and it’s body turned half on it’s side… and that must’ve been how Daryl saw it; saw the shape wedged underneath it, a curved shadow that stood out against the dried blood on the grass.

“Before they could check all the bodies for weapons,” he finished with a low hum. Moving confidently Daryl came up to the body and reached down to roll it over with a grunt. As the corpse rolled slowly away down the slight incline, Daryl’s gaze remained focused as he reached down and picked up his prize, holding it up to inspect it before his eyes shifted to Beth and something like a smile crossed his lips. 

“What do you think? Know you’ve been getting a feel for the crossbow… but maybe you’d like to give a compound bow a try?” 

“Is that what it is?” Beth took a couple steps closer, studying the weapon with interest. It was a large bow patterned in dark camo, with what looked like round, almost wheel-like bits at the top and bottom, and several arrows mounted on one side. 

“Mhm.” Daryl nodded, inspecting it even as he still held it out to her. “This here’s a good bow. Bowtech, I reckon.” He looked slowly up at her, his voice low as he added, “A good _huntin’_ bow, too.”

“How do you know it’s a hunting bow?” Beth closed the last bit of distance between them, her gaze narrowing so that she almost forgot the bodies on the ground around them and focused nearly entirely on the bow in his hands and the sound of his voice. 

“S’got silencers,” he remarked, gesturing to spots on the bow as he went on, “See here? String silencers, and cable silencers. It’s designed to be nice an’ quiet. Plus, I reckon it’s got a good draw, too…” He shifted after a moment, slinging his own bow over his back as he drew one of the arrows from where they were mounted, lined it up on the bow, and drew it back. “Mhm. Gotta be, what… 50 or 60lb draw, maybe.” 

“Is that… that’s good?” Beth had no idea what he was talking about, although… there was definitely something to be said about _how_ he was talking. Something about the gruff quality of his voice and how confident he sounded, same as he did when he was talking about hunting or tracking. 

“You usually need at least a 40lb draw weight for a deer, so yeah, that’s good.” He lowered the bow slowly, notching the arrow back into place before looking her over with a hint of a smirk. “Mine’s got somethin’ like a 140lb draw, s’why you can’t ever crank it on your own. Reckon once you get that arm healed, you’ll be able to manage it easier than with mine, for sure. If y’ want to, that is…” 

“Are you kidding?” She reached for it almost eagerly but then hesitated, just as her fingers brushed his and curled around the handle of the bow. “But I don’t know how to use it. I was only just gettin’ good at the crossbow and this… this is entirely differently.” She stroked her fingers lightly over the bow, the side of her hand grazing his as Beth looked up into his eyes and asked hesitantly, “Will you… will you teach me, Daryl?” 

“Would I offer you a weapon if I weren’t gonna make sure you know how to use it, girl?” 

The look he gave her, eyebrow arched and a hint of a smirk on her lips, made Beth smile up at him, made her linger there for just a moment with her fingers curled right next to his before she exhaled, “No. No, you wouldn’t.” Only then did she take the bow, fiddling with it until she found the strap to sling it around and settle it against her backpack. “What do you think?”

He eyed her for a long moment, eyes squinted against the sun that was coming from behind her now, bathing her in a golden glow. “Looks good,” he murmured after a second or two, “Like it might suit you. Reckon it will… I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

A slow smile curved up Beth’s lips as a thought occurred to her. She wasn’t just picturing herself using this bow, not anymore. No. She was picturing him _teaching_ her how to use it. Remembering all those days in the woods, him so close behind her as he guided her hands, talking right into her ear in that low gruff voice and showing her how to use his crossbow. It had been so intimate and so special and so _important_ , too. She remembered how it had made her feel all flustered and unsure yet oddly confident at the same time, and now she realized… they’d get to do that all over again. 

It was a new bow, a new style… a new chance to have Daryl right up close, guiding her and teaching her the way he was so good at. “Yeah,” she murmured at that realization, a husk in her voice that matched the one she’d heard in his own a moment or two before. “I guess we will see.” 

Their eyes met and held again, the heat stirring between them from something within and not just from the warmth of the setting sun on their backs. It lingered until Daryl’s gaze broke to look behind them, back over the trees where the sun was nearing the rim of them.

With a hum, he remarked, “C’mon. Sun is goin’ down, we should find someplace to stay for the night. Then tomorrow we can keep following these tracks, see if we’re right about Michonne and whoever was with her…”

Right. Michonne, and maybe Rick, and maybe others. Beth knew what they’d found today was important, but she also knew that there were other things just as important, maybe even more so. Things that were marked by the ease with which she and Daryl fell in together again, side by side and moving back into the trees in search of shelter for the night. Things that showed in the way his arm brushed hers, and the way he looked down at her with a hint of a smile.

The others might be out there. _Might_ be. And they’d keep looking, until they found out for good or for bad. But in the meantime, Daryl was right there at her side, a presence she was aware of even without looking. 

The others might be an unknown, but not him. He was right there with her, and that was so very important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to the nature of this story I won't ALWAYS make comments about what I changed from the main plot, because some of this is stuff that will reveal itself throughout the future story. However in some cases, the changes I made are things that will logically never get explained in the story, because it's not the sort of things the characters would observe, in which case I will make notes I like to think of as "butterfly effect" note. Case in point...
> 
>  **Butterfly effect** : With Daryl catching up with Beth in this story, the Claimers never ran into him. As such, he and Len never clashed heads, which means that Len was never caught out and killed by the rest of the Claimers. Without this to slow them down, the group moved more quickly after Rick, Michonne, and Carl. Rather than running into them at night while they were sleeping in the car, they caught up to them sometime in the day. Rick and Carl were off in the woods when Michonne heard the Claimers chatting about what they planned to do with them. Leaving Carl safely off to the side, Michonne circled around to the other side and she and Rick ambushed the Claimers and killed them (as per Daryl's theory) before they had the chance to do the same to them. Voila! 
> 
> Hope that makes sense, let me know if you have any questions! I'll answer them if I can do so without spoiling future stuff! This was just the sort of thing I felt the need to explain because no one in the story is ever gonna say "well because Daryl never met the Claimers", lol.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Terminus less than a day away, Daryl begins to have doubts, but he isn't sure he if he should reveal them to Beth or keep them hidden away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired in part by the song ["Run" by Daughter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LDBDPPNxocI).

“We should get some of those big backpacks.”

They had been walking in relative silence through the woods, with nothing but the gentle rustling of trees overhead and the faint chirping of birds to fill the quiet. At least, that had been all until Beth’s voice broke into the quiet, catching Daryl off guard and pulling him out of his thoughts to look over at her with a confused frown. “What?”

“You know, those big like… hiking backpacks. Is that what they’re called? They’re really tall and you can fit all kinds of stuff in them and roll a blanket to strap on top, and they have all kinds of hooks…” She was gesturing as she talked, presumably trying to illustrate what she meant although it mostly just looked like her waving her hands around. Which was probably why he just ended up furrowing his brow at her a little bit more, until she stopped and asked, “What? Can’t you imagine me with one of those?”

“Oh I can.” He chuckled, low and rumbling through his chest as he gave her a little smirked look over. “That’s what’s so amusing.”

“Hey!”

“Oh c’mon, Greene.” Daryl couldn’t resist teasing her. How could he, when she always lit up so nicely and flushed so prettily each time he did? “Strap one of those big bags on your back, wouldn’t you just tip over?”

“Daryl!” She tried to sound scolding, but she was giggling as soon as the exclamation trailed off. “Oh god, I’d be like a… like a weeble, you know? Wobbling all over, and you’d have to keep picking me up… Can you imagine?” 

Yeah, he could, and it was adorable. God, _she_ was fucking adorable. That wasn’t a word he’d used much, if ever, before Beth. It wasn’t like he had any need to; after all there wasn’t much adorable about Merle coming home at three am, drugged out of his mind with some random girl on his arm. Wasn’t much adorable about his Ma, drunk on whiskey and covered in bruises, leaning on him to help her get to bed. Wasn’t much adorable about his Dad, or his crappy life, or pretty much jack shit in his life… until her. Until this woman standing in the middle of the woods walking beside him, hair all lit up golden by the late afternoon sun filtering through the trees above them, going on about wobbling around with a big hiking backpack on her tiny little frame.

Sometimes when he looked at her or hell, even just thought about her, this thought came worming its way into his mind. It didn’t pop in or flash through his thoughts, no, it _wormed_. Slow and subtle, and he wouldn’t even know it was there until it crept up on him, and whispered into his thoughts: _I don’t know what I’d do, without her._

It was the kind of thought he pushed away as soon as it registered. The kind of thought he refused to dwell on, to even consider; just as he refused to consider how he’d never thought that about anyone in his life before. Just as he refused to consider that there might come a time where he _would_ have to figure out what to do without her. That was it, really. That was the reason why he refused to let that thought become anymore of a whisper. Because he couldn’t bear to think about the idea that someday he might have to do just that, might have to figure out what to do without Beth Greene beside him...

No. Those thoughts weren’t allowed to bloom in his mind let alone take up root, no matter how much they tried. No matter that every time he thought about what was up ahead, what he might be leading her into at Terminus, at some unknown place potentially filled with a massive herd of hungry walkers that could tear her away from him and… No.

He had to banish those thoughts. Had to focus instead on Beth and her smile and the way she lit up brighter than the sunlight that shone down on her. It wasn’t like she made it hard.

“Or would I slow you down too much? ...Daryl?” Her voice cut into his thoughts, right on cue, and an amused smile crossed her lips as she kept on teasing, “Hey, Earth to Daryl…”

“Huh?” He blinked against the sunlight until he finally focused on her once more and saw her eyeing him with an amused little smile.

“I _said_ , would I slow you down too much, if I was wobbling all over the place making you pick me up?” 

“Maybe.” He hesitated only a second, and the next step he took brought him closer to her, enough so his arm lightly brushed hers as he murmured, “But you know I wouldn’t leave y’ behind.” Against the solemnity of those words, he offered a hint of smirk and nudged his arm a bit more teasingly against hers as he added, “Even if y’ were wobblin’ all over the place. Little weeble…” 

For just a moment their eyes met and he saw that same solemn look in her eyes, understanding mixed with something else, something deeper, something that looked almost like _I’d never leave you either_ , but was left unsaid because between the two of them they didn’t always need words. At least, not in moments like this. Instead they used their words lightly, like Beth did right now as she stuck out her tongue from the corner of her mouth and groaned, “Oh no, are you gonna start calling me that now?” 

“What if I do, weeble?”

“ _Daryl!_ C’mon…”

“What, you don’t like that?” He felt a smile tugging at his lips, the kind that seemed to come easier and easier these days, around her anyway. “How about _little weeble_.”

And Beth just groaned, tipping her head back and looking up at the sky as she sighed, “This is all my fault. I regret everything.”

“You change your mind, then? No hiking backpacks for us?” 

After a moment she lowered her head and gave a little chuckle as she shook it. “No. No hiking backpacks! At least not for me. I just… I guess I was just thinking it’d be nice to be able to carry more, you know? We can only hold so much in these backpacks or strapped to them, or in our pockets. I know we gotta stay light to keep moving, but…”

“But it’s hard,” he murmured after a moment, darting a glance over at her before looking back ahead, reminding himself to keep his eyes on their surroundings even though she was far more tempting a sight. “Trying to stay well-supplied without weighing ourselves down?”

“Yeah. Yeah, exactly. It’s just hard, when we’re on the move…” She looked around at the dark leaves on the tree, a hint of yellow visible here and there but the air still mostly warm, for now anyway. “And it’ll get harder, once autumn comes, and then winter…”

Another thing he didn’t really want to think about, though he knew he should. Knew he should plan for it, knew they should _both_ plan for it, for the weather getting cold and the things they’d need to do to survive. But right now he just wanted to focus on the present. That was more than enough to try and deal with. “Sun’s getting low,” he remarked instead, looking up at the tree line and then back down at her, “Should find some place for the night.”

“We’re getting close, aren’t we?” Beth looked ahead of them up the tracks. Terminus wasn’t visible yet, but it would be soon. _Too_ soon, a part of him thought.

“Mm,” he grunted and then, for her, added lowly, “Less than a day. Which means it’s even more important to find some place for the night and get some rest. Don’t know what we might find tomorrow.” 

Which was, despite his persistence in ignoring it, exactly what Daryl was so worried about. But not right now. Right now he was gonna push that out of his mind yet again and focus on heading away from the train tracks and finding some place for them to stay for the night. 

He had been hoping for a hunting cabin or shack, or hell, maybe even a van or a covered truck or something. What they found instead, just as the sun began to set, was a hunter’s tree stand high above them. It couldn’t have been more like a six-by-six foot wooden ledge, maybe even smaller than that, held up by crossbeams that came down at a 45 degree angle to where they were bolted into the tree below. The only way up was a makeshift ladder, built of planks of wood nailed into the truck of the tree. 

“We can find better,” Daryl grunted, shaking his head as he looked down at her. 

“Don’t be silly, this is fine!” Beth pulled her own gaze away from the perch above them and looked over at him with a worried frown. “You said yourself it doesn’t look like it’s going to rain tonight, so we don’t need cover…” 

“But it ain’t got no walls, and we can’t light no fire up there…”

“So?” She turned towards him, crossing her arms lightly over her chest. “Daryl, we’ll be okay. We’ve got venison jerky and canned food to eat that doesn’t need to be cooked, and we’ve got blankets if it gets cold tonight. It shouldn’t be too bad, _and_ it’s high up, so it’ll be safe.”

He knew she was right and yet still he hesitated, torn with his desire (need, really) to do better. To give _her_ better, not because he felt she needed protection or that she couldn’t take care of herself but because he just… he just wanted to give her better, that was all. Wanted to keep her safe, wanted to keep her at his side. 

But he couldn’t really argue, not when she was looking at him like. He had no idea how she managed to look so firm yet soft at the same time; there was a determination to her that told him she wasn’t going to budge, but she also had this look of understanding in her eyes as if she knew exactly what he was worrying about.

“Come on,” she murmured, stepping towards him and curling her fingers around his forearm. “It’s gonna get dark soon. Let’s climb up here and settle in for the night, okay? If we get up there now, we might have some time to read a bit, before the sun sets…”

With a shake of his head and a little faint smile, Daryl pushed aside his worries yet again and followed after her as she began to climb up the boards of wood nailed into the side of the tree, heading for the stand above.

* * *

In the end she was right, of course. It wasn’t bad at all. They’d settled in on the small perch, side by side with their backs to the tree. After sharing some of the venison jerky between the and splitting a half a can of fruit, they had settled in to read until the sun had gone down and made reading impossible.

Now with the night air around them, Daryl felt Beth shiver faintly at his side as she slipped their worn paperback book into her bag. He reached for the blanket folded beside her, unrolling it and leaning forward to wrap it around the both of them without even thinking to only cover up her alone. His hand slipped slowly around her back beneath the blanket and he drew her to his side, feeling her tuck herself against him without any hesitation on her part, either. 

In fact her hand slid easily across his chest, arm slinging over his stomach until her hand settled at his opposite side. The weight of her arm made him shift faintly beneath her until his own hand found perfect purchase against her back, splaying over her shirt, his thumb brushing in a soft circle until he heard her softly laugh from where her cheek had come to rest on his shoulder.

“What?” 

“I was just wondering if you were, you know… ticklish.” 

His brow furrowed, a chuckle of his own catching in his throat as he looked down at her and asked again, “What made y’ think of that?” 

“I dunno, I was moving my hand over your side and thinking about how it’d be the perfect way to sneakily tickle you, but then suddenly I just found myself wondering if you were ticklish, and imagining it just made me laugh because it seems so… so not you. I mean you’re just so… solemn and sort of gruff, you know?” 

With a ‘hmm’ that made her rise and fall with the hitch of his chest, Daryl shook his head and grunted in reply, “Dunno if I should be offended by that or not.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you, if that helps.” Her soft smile reassured him of that. “You just don’t seem like the ticklish type, that’s all.” 

“Well, maybe I’d surprise you...” He drew out the words, gruff but with a hint of the playfulness she seemed to be so good at bringing out of him somehow. 

“Oh yeah?” And there it was again, that light in her eyes brightening her whole face. There was so much in her eyes these days when she looked at him, so many emotions he didn’t dare try to name, but the most important thing was that she was _happy_. He could see it in every inch of her right now as she looked at him with a grin on her face, her fingers curling and teasing at his waist while he shook his head.

“Maybe, but even if I am, I ain’t gonna tell you _where_ I’m ticklish,” Daryl drawled back.

“Is that right?” Her voice got the tiniest bit lower, her eyes visibly darkening in the moonlight as she smirked up at him. “You want me to try and find your ticklish spots myself, Mr. Dixon?”

And suddenly the mood had shifted, though he couldn’t say it was for the worse. There had been a warmth between them moments ago, soft and happy, but now there was _heat_. Heat that felt charged just like he did, as if that look in her eyes had something crackling through his veins and making his breathing a little bit rough. 

He didn’t think he was the only one. He could see her breath hitching in her chest, and as he watched her Beth began to nibble at her lower lip, the line of her teeth dimpling that soft pink flesh as she looked up at him with those big eyes of hers. 

Somehow he found himself holding his ground, voice low and a little rough as he murmured right back, “Maybe. You think you’re up for that, Greene?”

“I might be.” Her hand shifted away from his side to brush up his chest instead, and fuck, the way she was holding his eyes was making him feel so damn warm, so damn flustered. “But maybe not right now.”

“No?” He tried to tell himself he wasn’t disappointed, but maybe some hint of it flickered across his face because Beth’s expression shifted almost instantly.

A smile went up her lips again as she leaned into him and murmured, “No… ‘cause maybe I’ve got something else in mind to do right now.”

He would’ve asked ‘something like what?’, but it seemed like Beth didn’t intend to make him wait to find out. Instead she was already moving beside him, leaning up and in so she could brush her lips against his. The kiss was soft and light at first but it didn’t take long to deepen, not when her fingers were curling into his shirt and his were moving to cup her cheek and brush back into her hair. 

They stayed like that, lips parting as they tasted each other, every inch of him flushed with a warmth far more pleasant than that of a crackling fire, until his lungs began to ache and he had to pull back just to catch his breath in a ragged gasp. 

“Ain’t got no complaints about that,” he said once he’d caught his breath, his voice still rough not just with breathlessness but something else, too, something all tied up in the heat that she seemed to make simmer in his veins. 

“Good,” Beth murmured right back, brushing her lips sweetly over his one more time before she settled back against him. “But don’t think that means I’m not planning on finding your ticklish spot someday, Mr. Dixon.”

“Oh yeah?” He grinned. “Guess I’d better stay on my guard around you then, hm?”

“You can try,” she breathed out as she pressed her cheek to his chest and tilted her head to nuzzle against the crook of his neck. “But I plan on catching you when you least expect it. You’ll see.” 

“I guess I will.” Daryl gave one last chuckle as his arm slipped around her again, tightening against her back to hold her close under the blanket. “C’mon, little Weeble. Time t' get some rest. Might be a big day, tomorrow.”

“Mmm, I know.” She sighed and he watched as her hand splayed against his side and her eyes fluttered shut, and in a soft whisper she exhaled, “G’night, Daryl…”

“Night, Beth.” 

Watching her fall asleep was one of the most peaceful things he knew he’d ever seen, and yet… and yet his own words lingered even amid that sight. _Might be a big day, tomorrow_. Wasn’t that what he’d been dreading all day, hell, all week? Wasn’t that what stalked the recesses of his mind, dark thoughts like a silent hunter through the grass, waiting for the opportunity to strike him with worry and fear? 

When he looked down at her so sweet and peaceful, he wished he could just get lost in that. And if not that, then in the memories of moments like they’d just shared. He wished he could just get caught up in remembering her kissing him, wished he didn’t feel those worries creeping through his mind instead, as if _Terminus_ and all the worries that came with it were stalking him, just biding their time. 

But unfortunately, it wasn’t like he could do much about that now. Wasn’t like he could do anything but wait and sleep, and see what tomorrow would bring. 

Bad, or good.

So with one last sigh, one last shove in the direction of the black thoughts creeping through his mind, he tightened his arm around Beth, tipped his head back against the tree, and let his eyes slowly close.

* * *

In the end he should have known better. He should have listened to the worry churning in his stomach yesterday and today, should’ve listened to the black fear twining tendrils around his gut and tightening with each step they got closer to this place. _This place_.

Terminus.

Terminate.

 _End_.

He should have known it would be like this, should have known it would be bad. But he had lead her right into it, brought her right through the front gates like a lamb to the slaughter. Beth, his soft, sweet lamb now bleating with terror as they surrounded her. The walkers that filled this place and made it their own, reaching for her now with dead and decayed hands, curling fingers into fabric and flesh and pulling her into their midst. Pulling her into death right along with them.

Her mouth opened in a pealing scream of his name: _Daryl, Daryl, DARYL!_ But he couldn’t do anything, couldn’t get to her, she was lost in a sea of walkers and he was no longer her anchor, no longer her safe harbor in the storm because he was the one who had lead her right to it. He was the one who had sailed her right into this storm and abandoned her, watched the dead rise over her like a rotten tide, tattered clothes and torn flesh and clotted blood swallowing her whole, pulling her apart piece by piece to make her one of them.

His fault, his fault, his fault.

She was being pulled further and further from him, or maybe he was being pulled from her. Either way she began to recede, lost in the sea of walkers. As he was pulled away from her the flames of Terminus snapped and crackled in the distance, like the fires of hell itself coming for him, coming for them. He could still see her up ahead, a bright spot in a swarm of death and darkness and he wanted to shout: _run, Beth, run, run run…_

But all she did was scream as bloody rotten teeth tore into her once pristine, perfect skin, and the walkers were turning, coming for him too now, surrounding him and sweeping over him like a wave of blackness that brought with it the scent of old blood and dead flesh. He pushed against the blackness, scrambled with every last inch of strength he had…

.., and woke with a gasp, sitting up so sharply that the weight that had been leaning against him was shoved away as he cried out in a low, raspy voice, “Run. Run, Beth-” _Beth_. He could see her in front of him, face bloodied and torn apart by hungry walkers, lost to him forever… he choked on his breath and gasped, “Beth, oh god, Beth-”

“I’m right here. Daryl-” And suddenly, there she was. The sweet scent of her filled his nostrils, banishing the stink of death as she pressed herself back against his side. He felt her hand press against his cheek, fingers curling there and grazing over his skin. Her hand was so warm, so _alive_. With a tiny bit of pressure she turned his head until he looked into her gaze, until he saw her there in front of him. The real her. _Alive_.

Even in the darkness she was radiant. The light of the moon above them made her hair and skin seem to faintly glow, made her big blue eyes light up almost like little bits of sapphire. There was nothing to marr her skin except one single scar across her cheek, leftover from the car that had hit her and broken her wrist, too. There was no torn flesh, no blood. Just her, perfect and pure.

But what affected him more than any of that was the look in her eyes, so filled with worry and concern and something else, something he didn’t know how to put a name to yet but nevertheless felt inside of him, too, deep in the corners of his heart all warm and blossoming slowly, like the petals of a flower opening bit by bit to the sun. 

“ _Beth_...” He ground out her name again and this time as he did he reached for her instinctively. His hand found her hip, his fingers curling reflexively against the curve of it as he felt a shudder go through his whole body.

“I’m right here,” she murmured in a soft, breathy voice that was husky with the sleep he must have knocked her right out of. He might have felt guilty, except he was too busy just being grateful that she was alive. That it had only been a dream.

Or, well… a nightmare. 

But this? This was real. This wasn’t just a trick of his dark and scared mind. Her fingers brushing over his skin, the sight of her shifting up onto her knees and leaning in until her forehead rested against his? That was so very real, and so was the way he breathed her in, drawing in deep breathes until he almost felt like the scent of her and nearness of her could banish the dark remnants of that nightmare that lingered inside of him.

“Dreamed they got you. Dreamed I lost you…” The words tripped over his tongue but still spilled free, husky and hoarse as he kept his eyes shut.

“You didn’t, Daryl. You _won’t_. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.” Her voice was so fierce, so sure, and god did he wish he could believe her. God did he wish that there wasn’t a part of him that wanted to disagree, wanted to tell her that she couldn’t promise him that. That neither of them could. 

He couldn’t bring himself to disagree with her, but he couldn’t agree wither.. 

Instead they just stayed still in the dark, forehead to forehead, both of them silent except for their hearts, which were beating so loud that he felt as if his own, at least, was almost like a drum pounding away in his chest. Beating out the rhythm of his fear, his worry… and something else, too. Something that was an echo of that sensation deep within, of something warm and bright unfurling in her presence. 

He couldn’t put to words the things that were making his heart race like a drum. Couldn’t tell her _can’t lose you_ and _I don’t think I could live with myself if I did_. 

There were other things, too, other things he couldn’t tell her. Things like how he didn’t want to go to Terminus tomorrow. Things like how he wanted to stick up his middle fingers towards the once burning buildings the way they’d done it all that time ago to the little shack in the middle of the words. Or how just like then he wanted to turn with her at his side now and just _run_. Run away. Run to safety. Run to somewhere that was just for them. Somewhere they could both be safe.

But he didn’t even think a place like that existed and even if he had known, that was still a thing he couldn’t say. Because if there was any chance that their family was there, or had been there and might have left some sign… that was a thing they couldn’t run away from. No matter how much the thought of that place filled his stomach with a sick churning dread. 

He would just have to push it away. Like he had earlier today, like he had been doing all this time. Hell, like he’d learned to do as a little kid, terrified of the thought of his father coming home from another bender and finding him. 

Except it seemed that Beth had something else in mind. Just as he began to draw himself up, just as he began to shudder with the strength it took him to push past it all and hide it away, she pulled back and looked into his eyes and whispered, “Don’t, Daryl.” And when he opened his eyes at last, confusion mingling with the remnants of fear, he felt her fingers come up once more to graze his cheek as she whispered, “You’re not alone, Daryl. You don’t have to keep acting like you are. You don’t have to keep pushing it all away, hiding it deep down inside and pretending it doesn’t bother you.” 

Before he could open his mouth to protest, she traced her fingers down over her jaw and added almost plaintively, “Didn’t we say that we’d put each other first, Daryl? Us, before anything else? That doesn’t just mean when it comes to fighting, or finding a way to survive. It means things like this, too. Whatever is burdening either of us, whatever is burdening you Daryl… you can tell me. Don’t you trust me?” 

Of course he did. That knowledge was more crisp and clear in his mind that anything else right now. He trusted Beth more than he’d ever trusted anyone before in his life.

He trusted her _with_ his life. 

So if he trusted her with that, couldn’t he trust her with anything else? Like the black thoughts that clung to the crevices of his mind and hard and twisted around his gut to make it churn? Couldn’t he trust her enough to look into her eyes and curl his fingers against her hip and whisper into the safety of his nearness, “I can’t lose you.” 

Apparently, he could. 

And once those first few words were out, the rest of it seemed to spring to his tongue. Halting and short and clipped, sure, because he couldn’t change who he was, not entirely. But he could trust her enough to admit to this, at least. 

“Keep thinking something’ll go wrong. And it ain’t that I don’t think you can keep yourself safe, that you ain’t strong… I know you can, I know you are... but I just… Sometimes I just think I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here and then I think…”

“What if I wasn’t?” Beth’s soft voice picked up the trail of his, finding the words he couldn’t seem to form on his own. 

“Yeah. And I keep thinking about Terminus and all them walkers and I just…” 

“Is that what you dreamed about, tonight?” 

“Lead you right to it. Right into it. And all I did was watch while they tore you apart and you- And I-”

“Shhh…” Her forehead pressed to his again and this time her hand cupped the back of his head, stroking over his neck and through his long hair. “It wasn’t real, and it won’t be real. We won’t let it, okay? You’re not gonna lead me into anything like that, Daryl. We know better, don’t we? We wouldn’t have taken that risk anyway and now, we’ll just be extra careful. We won’t even put ourselves near enough for them to see us, let alone touch us, if it comes down to that, okay?”

“You mean that?” There was a vulnerability in his voice that he would have hated if he wasn’t so, well, vulnerable right now. If he could’ve helped it, or dragged up anything beyond that, emotionally. But got, he needed to know she did. Needed to know she meant it, even though it might mean losing a chance to find out what had happened to their family.

“Course I do. Just like I meant it when I said I ain’t going anywhere, okay?” As if to punctuate that statement she shifted in front of him, but only to turn in the bracket of his legs, resting on her hip and leaning against him till she was curled against his chest. “See? I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. Not physically or otherwise.” 

With his arms sliding around her he drew in a deep breath, filled his nose with the scent of her as the last little bit of worry unknotted within his chest and slipped from his lips, “I just keep feelin’ like somethin’ bad is coming, up ahead.”

“Maybe it is. But if so, then we’ll face it together, okay?” 

He knew there was more he could’ve said. More plans to be made, maybe more reassurances on the tip of her tongue that she might have given voice to. But right now? This was all he wanted, or needed. Her, wrapped up in his arms and held close to his chest. _Safe_. 

This time, he didn’t even let himself mentally add to the end of that: Safe, _for now_. Because he believed in her. If she said they’d be careful, if she said that she wasn’t going anywhere than this time, he believed her. 

He just had to remember to trust in her… he had to remember to trust in the two of them, and the knowledge that they were stronger together. 

So he pressed his lips to her forehead and let his eyes flutter shut as he whispered back simply, “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this was awful, I haven't been having the best week. As always, thank you for continuing to read this story, and thank you so much for all the comments you leave. They're what keeps me going and keeps me writing, and makes me remember to tell that old self doubt to back off. <3


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the memory of his nightmares fresh in both their minds, Beth and Daryl finally make their way to Terminus to search for signs of their family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL it's been a little bit! I had some trouble writing this after focusing for so long on something else in a different style, so this was a bit hard to get back into. I thought I was gonna hate it, but when I went through and edited it, I actually kinda liked it. Surprise surprise. Anyway I hope you all enjoy, too.
> 
> OH! And keep your eyes peeled for a familiar location _besides_ just Terminus. Wink wink.

The closer they got to Terminus, the more walkers they came across. Even without the fires burning like a beacon, it was as if something within the complex ahead was a klaxon call to the undead, beckoning them close until they milled around it like a shambling phalanx of unruly guards.

Or perhaps the dark dreams that had plagued him last night still lingered in Daryl’s mind, tendrils of blackness clinging inside his mind and making him see through their nightmarish filter. 

He was certain they must be. After all he knew rationally that whatever lay ahead wasn’t some fortress of evil, like in the horror movies he’d once watched. It wasn’t pulsing with some dark magic, summoning the hordes of undead to guard it. It was simply a place. A building, or perhaps a series of buildings, the demise of which had been loud and explosive and impossible to ignore. The walkers that filled the woods weren’t summoned to it, they weren’t any sort of evil undead guards. They were simply brainless rotting corpses drawn mindlessly on by loud noises or bright lights in the distance, unerring once they’d set on a path unless something else distracted them.

Of course, just because they weren’t agents of evil drawn to guard the complex up ahead, didn’t mean they weren’t still dangerous. Daryl was fully aware of that as he and Beth made their way through the woods paralleling the railroad tracks, heading slowly towards whatever lay ahead. Their plan, following Daryl’s nightmares last night and both their logical concerns, had been to keep off the tracks and work their way closer until they could find a vantage point from which to oversee whatever Terminus contained. 

They had counted on running into walkers amongst the trees; after all, they’d been seeing more and more of them every day since they’d left the Mill. One or two walkers they handled when they needed to; either he or Beth came up behind them to stab them in their heads or Daryl shot them from a distance instead. Others they avoided simply by keeping their ears tuned to the sounds of groans up ahead and shifting their path around them. They were focused, intent on their surroundings. Prepared.

But neither of them heard or sensed anything that raised a single alarm in the moments before they stepped into a small clearing and came unexpectedly face to face with a group of undead. 

There was something close to ten of them maybe, clustered around something in the center of the clearing. In the split seconds that followed, Daryl’s gaze shifted rapidly, spotting something on the ground between the walkers that he could only assume was a corpse; animal or human, he didn’t know. Whatever it was, it had clearly drawn the group of them together He didn’t have time to figure out what exactly it was from here, and frankly it didn’t really matter when the already standing walkers were turning towards him and those on the ground were rising to their feet with hungry groans. 

Without hesitation he raised his loaded crossbow, shooting the nearest walker between the eyes before dropping his bow down to reload as quickly as he could. Beth might have had her own bow slung across her back, but her wrist wasn’t healed enough yet to use it even if she’d known how to handle the new bow. Instead when he glanced over at her she had her knife already clutched in her good hand, fingers curled tightly around the handle. 

The second in which his gaze met hers seemed both impossibly slow and far too fast, all at once. He wanted in that moment to reach for her, to push her behind him where he could keep her safe, and yet at the same time he knew without a doubt that she could protect not only herself but him, too. He _knew_ she could protect herself but god, did some part of him wish she didn’t have to. Emotions rose within him, protectiveness and frustration and affection and something else, something warm and desperate all at the same time, but he didn’t have the time to form what he was feeling into words even if he’d been capable of putting name to it all. All he had was that one second, that one brief moment of her eyes holding his.

And then he was rising up, loaded crossbow in hands as Beth drew away from him, arcing out to the left to target the nearest walker she could find. 

He lost sight of her in the melee that followed. Here and there through the shambling bodies he glimpse a flash of blonde hair, or the sight of a leg striking out to hit a knee, followed by the downward sweep of her blade, but then she would disappear again, blocked by the bodies in between them. Even as his stomach plummeted he kept fighting, firing off bolts until the walkers got too close, cutting off his ability to continue to load his crossbow.

Daryl slung it over his back and drew his knife without hesitation, gaze flicking rapidly around the clearing in an attempt to count the walkers. Were there four standing? Or five? It was hard to tell, and a clump of them were closing in on him fast. Rather than wading into the remaining bodies he reached out to roughly grab one, slinging it around to slam it against a nearby tree and then drive his blade down right between its eyes. His head turned, not only in time to catch the spray of rotten blood across his neck, but something else as well. A sharp cry from behind him that pierced his ears and made his stomach clench. 

He spun around, letting the walker’s body fall to the ground in a slump as he pulled his blade free. With that cry of mingled panic and frustration still echoing in his ear, his sharp gaze scanned frantically over the scene, searching through the remaining bodies until he spotted the flash of blonde hair that made his stomach lurch all over again.

There. _Beth_. 

She lay on the ground, face screwed up in a grimace a she struggled to hold up the walker that was on top of her and pinning her down. It was big, male, and barely decomposed, and the only thing keeping its snapping jaws from reaching her face was her injured arm wedged beneath its chin right up against its throat. He’d have known she was in pain even without knowing about her injured wrist; he could see it etched on her face and hear it in her whimpers as she struggled to force the corpse off her. 

(In his dream he had lost her to a sea of the undead that had pulled her apart and swallowed her in their massive swelling sea of decomposing limbs. Now there was only one, but the image remained in his mind, stark and terrifying. One was all that was needed, in the end. One walker rising over her like the tide to drag her away from him.)

But even in her obvious pain and panic, Beth didn’t give up. He watched as her free hand reached up, yanking her knife from where it had been thrust into the walker’s shoulder in what he assumed was their earlier struggle, or perhaps in the fall itself. He watched, seconds seeming impossibly slow, as she fought to raise it up, struggled to line up her aim even as the walker pressed down on her injured arm. 

He was in the middle of rushing towards her, knowing in his gut she could take care of herself but not capable of just standing by and _watching_ , when from the left another walker lurched into view, dragging itself across the ground by its arms, focused hungrily on Beth where she struggled to free herself.

With a snarl fueled by a protective fire that roared within his chest Daryl whirled, raising his leg to slam it down on the walker’s head, the resulting crunch sending blood and brain matter splattering across his pants as well as the matted grass. 

As the blood dripped from the sole of his boot, Daryl turned just in time to see Beth thrust her knife directly into the skull of the walker that had her pinned beneath it. He was moving even before the blade fully hit home, and a mere second after she let out a low cry and fell back with the heavy weight pinning down her arm he was there, reaching down to curl his fingers into the walker’s torn shirt to pull it bodily off her.

Again their eyes met, his gaze finding hers through the shaggy hair that hung in his eyes, relief that she was okay surging through him in one intense moment- _thank god, thank god, she’s okay, she’s okay_ \- before her gaze broke away and flickered behind him.“Daryl!” She gasped, struggling to sit up as he tugged the corpse half off her. “Behind you!” 

Responding instinctively, he was forced to leave the corpse still half over her as he turned around with a frustrated grunt to see the last two walkers just a few feet away and closing in. Silent except for the growl rumbling low in his chest, Daryl surged forward. One foot went out, kicking the left walker in its knees and making it stumble back as he raised his knife and drove it into the other walker’s eye. One push of his hand against its shoulder and it fell to the ground, freeing his blood-slick blade in the process. Eyes narrowed in complete focus, Daryl strode forward a few more steps and caught the final walker with one more kick, this time sending it to its knees seconds before his blade came down to drive right down into the top of its head with a wet crunch.

There was a grunt behind him and he turned, pulling his blade free one last time, to see Beth finally push the walker’s corpse off her legs to free herself with a heavy sigh of relief. 

Through every moment of the last several heated minutes he had moved instinctively, fueled by anger and protectiveness to be sure, but at the same time (mostly) feeling oddly distant to most of the emotions building within him. Now they spilled rapidly over in one big rush, like a pot of simmering water set to boiling so quickly that it overflowed. He was only half aware of closing the gap between them, the moment blurred until he fell to his knees beside Beth and reached for her with a low noise that was more simply a worried, pained sound than any actual words. 

His hands brushed down her shoulders, her arms, her sides, and back up again, searching almost frantically for injuries-- or worse, for bites. He wasn’t even aware that he was speaking out loud- “Beth, Beth, god, Beth…”- until she curled her fingers tightly into his shirt and breathed roughly back, “Daryl. _Daryl_. I’m okay, I swear. It didn’t get me. I got _it_.”

And she had. Of course she had. Hell if she’d had to, she coud have brought down every one of the walkers they’d just faced. But it had been too goddamn close. He’d seen that monster pinning her down and snapping its rotten blood-stained teeth inches from her face, and even the memory of how strong she’d been and how she’d struggled to save herself couldn’t banish the anxiety that twisted in his gut.

Only her words could. Her soft reassuring words- “I’m okay, Daryl, I’m okay.”- and the warmth of her so close to him. A shudder went through Daryl’s body as he lifted his hands to cup her cheeks and tilt her face up towards his. First he just pressed his lips to her forehead, feeling her soft, warm skin against his mouth and then, with a sigh, he tipped his head down to rest his forehead against her own.

He was aware that they weren’t safe here. He knew they sat in the middle of a clearing surrounded by blood-matted grass and heaped walker corpses and that at any moment another could stumble into their midst. But he took the moment anyway. He took the few fleeting seconds to breathe her in, to rest his forehead against hers and just _feel_ her there, with him, safe. Alive.

His fingers carded lightly through her hair, tracing around the shape of her ear as he cupped the side of her head and then finally, slowly drew back. Only when he had met her eyes for another few seconds- the gaze everything and yet not enough at the same time when a part of him wanted to just sit there drinking her in for hours- did he finally look down at her arm with a frown that furrowed his brow. 

“Your arm…?” The worry penetrated his relief again, roughening his voice.

“It hurts, but not too bad.” Beth’s frown matched his own as she looked down at her arm, the bandage dirtied now and stained with what he figured was the walker’s gore and blood. “It’s my fault. I was gonna stab him but he came at me faster than I expected and I hit his shoulder instead. Lifted my arm to stop him… my _bad_ arm, of course. Like an idiot.” She shook her head. “He pressed right into it and it hurt so damn bad that my knees gave out on me and I fell and…”

And the walker had very nearly gotten her. He knew that as well as she did, but neither of them said it, at least not aloud. She’d survived and that was all that mattered for now. They didn’t need to put into words what almost happened. They had enough to handle as it was, without adding bad omens to the mix.

“C’mon,” he said roughly, emotion over the things left unsaid thickening his voice as he rose into a crouch and slipped his hands under her arms to help her to her feet. “Need to get somewhere safer. Somewhere up high, like we planned. High and _safe_. Maybe a tree, or somethin’...”

“You’re lucky I’m a farm girl, Daryl Dixon.” The playful words, coming seemingly out of nowhere, caught Daryl off guard. As he steadied Beth on her feet he looked down at her and raised an eyebrow in question. With a laugh and a nudge to his side, Beth just teased, “Because I’m a _climber_. Trees, fences, barn ladders... I’m a tree-climbing machine.”

He looked her up and down from her head to her toes, gaze lingering for a moment on the injured arm she held close to her stomach. Despite the fact that they were both covered in blood and surrounded by walker bodies, a smirk tugged at his lips as he teased,“Even basically one-armed?” 

“Oh yeah,” Beth went on confidently, adjusting her injured arm to hug it close to her stomach as she flashed him a warm smile, “I’m a basically-one-armed tree-climbing machine. Just you wait and see.”

* * *

It stretched out in front of them like a perfect tableau of the world they lived in now; a large complex of fire-blackened brick buildings bordered by the dark slashing lines of numerous abandoned railroad tracks. Despite the damage of what seemed to have been not just any fire but an explosive one, the structures of the large buildings were still visible, and beneath the smoke stains the letters written out on the windows could still be read: **TERMINUS**. 

But the buildings, the fire damage, the broken windows... none of that was the most noticeable feature of the train station complex. 

What stood out most as they looked over the large complex wasn’t the damage wrought by the explosion or even the complex itself, but the massive herd of walkers that filled every inch of the place. They milled in and out of the buildings and around the broken down fences, stumbling into open box cars and filling the air with the sounds of their groans, which carried through the air right up to where they sat perched in a tall tree.

Despite her joking tone, Beth had amusingly turned out to be right about the tree-climbing thing. Of course it helped that they’d chosen a good solid tree with nicely spaced branches, and that he’d taken her bag so all she’d had to carry was her bow at her back and her other weapons stuck in her belt and sheath. Regardless, she did pretty damn well at climbing for someone who had only one uninjured arm, keeping the other one tight to her chest as she used a combination of her legs and one strong arm to pull herself up branch by branch in a powerful display of muscles before he’d remembered to follow her.

Now they were perched safely at the top of a tree, each on their own branch and turned to face the complex beneath them. From within her bag Beth had drawn out their small pair of binoculars, a find from one of the farmhouses back by the Mill. The ‘just in case’ item was proving as useful as he’d expected now as he watched her raise them to her eyes and survey the scene in front of them. 

Rather than ask her what she saw, Daryl just glanced at her, waiting patiently until Beth lowered the binoculars and looked at him with a faint smirk. “Yep. Walkers. Lots and _lots_ of walkers.” She shrugged one shoulder. “I mean I shouldn’t be surprised considering how many we saw heading towards it past the mill, and how many must’ve come from another direction, but…” Beth’s gaze was drawn back out over the complex and she shook her head as she breathed out, “ _Lord_ is that a lot of walkers.” 

After a moment she stretched out her hand and offered him the binoculars, and as he took them to raise them to his own eyes, Beth went on, “There’s no way anyone is alive in there. I mean they’d have to either be too idiotic to know to leave or…”

“Or they couldn’t get out,” Daryl remarked with a grunt as he focused on the buildings below. 

“Mm. Which means they’re probably one of the walkers we see milling around down there.”

Through the lens of the binoculars, Daryl surveyed the scene. He didn’t linger long on the walkers, Beth had pretty much covered everything interesting about them when she stated there were a ton of them. No, what he focused on was the actual complex; the buildings, the box cars, the torn and trampled flowers that seemed to have once decorated the complex and there, off to one side, a darker concentration of burned objects and the corpses of walkers. Now _that_ was something far more interesting than the hungry, groaning undead wandering past it.

“Reckon I figured out what caused that fire,” Daryl grunted, lowering the lenses to glance over at his curious companion. Silently, he offered her the binoculars back and waited for him to raise them before he leaned over, balancing carefully where he was straddling the branch. With one hand gripping between his feet so he didn’t slip, he used his free hand to gently turn her head in the right direction. “There. See all that fire damage, the piles of walkers all around it like they kinda sprayed out from it? Reckon that’s a fuel tank. Or it was, before it exploded.”

“Huh.” Peering intently through the lenses, Beth swept her gaze back and forth as she asked in a low murmur, “On purpose, though? Or accidentally?” 

“Hard to say.” His gaze drifted back and his brow furrowed as he studied the scene. “Might be impossible to say for sure without gettin’ close, and there ain’t no way we’re managing that.” He drew his hand back and rubbed it over his chin, feeling the coarse hairs of his beard against the pads of his fingers. as he went on thoughtfully, “Way I see it, could’ve gone both ways. Could’ve just been an accident. Fuel tank blows up, and the fire can’t be stopped, plus it calls all the damn walkers nearby. Whoever was in there would’ve had to make a run for it, kill whatever they could… Would account for the other bodies here and there.”

“Or it could have been on purpose,” Beth mused, following his train of thought and using her own clever deductive skills. Sharp as a tack, she was, and he not only admired it but found it undeniably attractive. “Someone from the outside or the inside could’ve blown it up for a distraction, or to help someone escape,” she went on, breath hitching just faintly as she finished, “... maybe even our family.”

“Maybe.” Daryl looked over at her just as Beth lowered the binoculars and looked right back at him, the hint of frustration in her eyes telling him she was thinking exactly the same thing he was. They had no way to tell for sure without at least getting in there, and that required risking one of the largest herds of walkers either of them had ever seen. 

Neither of them intended to take that risk, and though he didn’t need that confirmed, the way Beth reached out to gently squeeze his hand reassured him regardless. No matter how much they both ache to know if the buildings within held information about their family, they wouldn’t risk it. (“ _The most important thing is keeping each other safe. Staying together. Everything else is secondary._ ”) She watched him for a moment, gaze lingering against her own before she turned back and narrowed her eyes at the scene before them instead. 

“Well, if we can’t get in there and we can’t risk trying to get the herd _out_ to get in there… maybe we can circle the place, see if there’s any other signs to be found?” 

It sounded like a risk to him all the same, but at least it was one far less dangerous than the two of them walking right into a walker-infested train complex. So after a long moment, Daryl looked up at her and gave a slow nod. Right now, it was their best chance of finding any sign that their family had been here, and whether or not they’d gotten out.

* * *

The woods around Terminus were still thick with walkers, and after their adrenaline-filled experience earlier, neither Daryl or Beth had any intention of taking risks. They moved slowly and carefully in general circle through the trees around the complex; avoiding walkers when they could, and killing others only when they had to.

Through the trees here and there they saw glimpses of the tall wooden fences that surrounded Terminus, most still standing but some torn down by the mass of walkers. It wasn’t hard to figure out where the herd that had passed the Mill had come through, for example; they left a wide and obvious trail through the woods, right up to the torn down fence in the distance. Daryl and Beth however were too cautious to follow those paths, leading as they did right into the heart of a complex overrun with the undead.

It was tough enough going making their way around it, cautious and on edge for every groan or shuffling step that drifted on the breeze towards them. Although, in what he figured was a positive in the long run, their extreme caution made them intensely focused on their surroundings; from the sounds in the air to the tracks and markings strewn all around them. 

Unfortunately they’d been circling the complex slowly for the better part of an hour, maybe more, and he’d yet to see anything but the tracks and trails of all the walkers that had come through… Until, unexpectedly, his sharp gaze spotted something different marring the trunk of a nearby tree. Just loud enough for her to hear, he hissed, “Beth, wait.” As she instantly slowed to a stop beside him, Daryl turned to the left, closing the gap between him and the tree in a few steps. “Look,” he grunted simply, gesturing up at the trunk.

He didn’t need to say much more than that. At the movement of his hand, Beth’s own gaze focused on the tree, her eyes narrowing as she spotted the same thing he had; a circled X slashed onto the trunk, exposing the lighter wood beneath the bark. Coming up to stand beside him she inspected it as he did, watching as he raised his fingers to run them over the mark.

“Can you tell how recent it is?” 

With a shake of his head, Daryl replied, “Dunno. Hard to say. Ain’t brand new, but it’s not very old either.” Knowing how unhelpful that was, Daryl glanced behind them through the trees to where he could see the still standing some some distance away. With a thoughtful hum he began to look around them, inspecting the nearby trees for any other marks. 

He could tell the moment Beth caught on, pulling away from the tree they stood by to make her way past him; inspecting the other trees while always keeping him in sight. “Here,” she called out, her voice just loud enough to carry to him. She stood some distance away, running her fingers over a similar mark slashed into another tree. 

Grunting softly, he tugged at the strap of his crossbow and moved quickly to join her, coming up at her side as Beth remarked, “They were marking a path, you think? So they could find their way back? Or… so they could find their way _too_ something?”

“Maybe.” Again he looked from this one to the last, and beyond it in the direction of Terminus. “Either makes sense.” 

“Do you think it’s…”

The end of that sentence was left unsaid, but Daryl didn’t need to hear the actual words aloud to know what she meant. Their people. Their family. “Dunno,” he responded lowly, wishing he could tell her something else, wishing that he _could_ somehow know it was them. 

“But it’s a trail, right? It’s something. Better than nothing, anyway.” Beth’s fingers brushed once more over the markings and then she looked up at him. His eyes met hers, so big and wide as always and this time just faintly bright with what he knew what her unerring sense of hope. Despite everything, she always seemed to hold onto it; and for his part, he couldn’t deny that look in her eyes. 

“It’s somethin’,” he grunted after a long moment of just holding her gaze. “Something to follow, anyway. Whether it’s them or not, chances are it might lead to a shelter.” That, above anything else, was what he figured they needed right now. A place to spend the night and regroup, re-wrap Beth’s arm and hell, maybe even take a few days of rest before they figured out what to do next.

His gaze lingered on her for a few moments longer. Those protective instincts might have been flamed into a roaring fire a few hours ago, but they had been there before and they remained now. A low, ever-present simmer that seemed to guide his decisions daily now with one mantra: _Keep Beth safe._ Right now that meant shelter, because with shelter would come everything else she’d need.

So with a nod, he pointed ahead of them into the woods and remarked gruffly, “C’mon. Let’s go.” And when she raised an eyebrow at his rough tone and he saw a hint of her sweet smile tugging at her lips, Daryl’s expression softened, his worry receding a bit as he allowed himself to tease instead, “Let’s put those trackin’ skills of yours to the test again, hm? See if you can follow these markings.” 

As always, she accepted his challenge with a glint of confidence in her eyes and a warm little smile, and as she took off into the woods he trailed close behind her, keeping one eye on her and the other firmly on the woods around them.

* * *

It was impossible to determine just how old the marks on the trees were, but the path they followed confirmed to Daryl that they had to be at least a week old, probably longer. There were no tracks to be seen, or at least not following the path marked by the odd circled x-shaped slashes in the bark of the trees. Whatever tracks there might have been at one point- left by the makers of the marks or anyone else following this same path- were long since gone now, erased by the numerous rain storms that had happened since. 

Here and there both he and Beth spotted the tracks of walkers, but those were always headed in the opposite direction, following staggering, winding paths back towards Terminus. He had to admit he felt better now that they were heading _away_ from those buildings, from what had become in his mind almost a sort of beacon of death. 

It helped that he was following Beth now, and if she was a beacon than she was one that stood for the exact opposite. One that was light instead of dark, happiness and life instead of death. _Hope_ instead of dread. He followed the swing of her ponytail, the lilt of her soft hums, and the slight sway of her hips as she strode confidently through the woods, following the path marked on the trees.

When the signs eventually lead to the edge of the trees and a dirt road, they both paused at the edge to peer in both directions. Even before the car that had stolen her, they’d both wisely avoided any sort of roads, even quiet ones like this that seemed more like it might be a driveway or private road than anything else. Roads even now often meant people though, and people meant danger. So it wasn’t surprising that when he looked at Beth in silence, she nodded to the right, where the woods continued to parallel the road providing a far safer path. 

Their path was confirmed a short distance ahead, where they found yet another mark on a tree at the side of the road. Checking to make sure they were still following the right trail was the only time they left the complete safety of the trees, veering closer to the dirt road to search for the markings on the trees that lined it before drifting back under cover again.

Despite the trees obstructing much of their view of the road they were walking parallel too, Daryl eventually got a glimpse of a structure up ahead. They climbed a slight incline and there, up ahead through a gap in the trees, he spotted the pointed tip of a roof piercing the landscape. 

He and Beth approached the structure from the side, staying amongst the foliage rather than taking the road that led directly to it. As they got close, the structure became clearer. It looked like a hundred other cabins he’d seen before, one-room hunting cabins made from rotted old planks, all dotting the woods around these parts and throughout Georgia. This one had one little step that led up to a tiny porch in the front, which was shaded by a small overhang of corrugated metal covered in old dry leaves. The roof formed a peak above it, and below was a single door with two small windows on either side; one decorated with a pair of old, dangling deer antlers, and the other with firewood stacked in front of it in what might once have been a neat pile, but had long since formed a messy, abandoned tumble of logs.

By his guess, it had been awhile since anyone had lived there. As they got closer, he spotted a junky old car sitting out in front, long abandoned and probably drained of gas by his estimation. As they rounded the left side of the cabin, he saw an old gas grill tangled up in an overgrown bush, the cover still opened and adding to the air of abandonment that clung to the place. 

Despite the aura of forgottenness they made a full circle around the small cabin, checking as they went for any signs of people. All they saw were the marks of disuse; dirty and dusty windows, nothing boarded up, nothing that might have served as warning alarms or any kind of deterrent against the walkers. 

So in the end as they came back around front again they left the woods and crossed to the front of the cabin. Daryl stood there on the dirt road peering up at it, one hand curled around the strap of his bow the other hanging at his side. His eyes narrowed against the light of the sun as it sunk lower in the sky, illuminating the shack in front of him. As far as he could tell, it really did look abandoned. Except for the markings on the trees he saw no signs that anyone was around or even had been, though he knew the recent rain had probably washed away whatever footsteps might have once marked the dirt road even a few days ago. All things considered, it looked like a good place to at least spend the night.

But then again, the decision wasn’t his to make, at least, not alone. Slowly he drew his eyes away from the view of the desolate looking cabin in front of him and glanced to his right, to the slender young woman standing beside him, blonde hair glinting in the later afternoon sunlight. 

“Whaddya think?” He asked curiously, voice low and just loud enough for her to hear as he peered down at her by his side.

“Yep. A cabin.” Her dry voice and the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips echoed her tone earlier when she’d looked over Terminus and pronounced ‘yep, lots of walkers’, and Daryl just chuckled for a moment and shook his head. He liked her way of doing that sometimes. Breaking an unnecessarily serious mood with a little teasing joke. But she was just as capable of being serious too, as she was just now when she leaned slightly into him, her arm brushing his as she said in a softer voice, “Well, we need a place to stay tonight and it looks safe enough. Sturdy walls, and a roof overhead, with no sign that it’s occupied… at least not from here.”

He hummed his agreement and after a moment, unslung his crossbow to settle it in his hands and give a nod towards the cabin ahead. “Check the inside to be sure, and then decide?” 

Beth fell into place behind him, drawing her knife in a smooth motion as they moved slowly up the dirt path to the front of the little cabin. They split only when they reached the porch, him going to the left window and her to the right, both of them shading their hands to peer into the structure. He saw no movement within and Beth didn’t seem to either, but they were cautious nonetheless, falling habitually into their usual pattern; she knocked on the door and stepped out of the way as she opened it, leaving him standing there with his bow upraised in anticipation of an attack from within.

There was nothing inside to greet them though; at least, nothing moving. As he’d guessed from outside it was one single open room. Above them the arched roof was covered in more corrugated metal laid over the wooden ceiling beams. The wooden walls of the cabin were hung with cardboard, unfolded boxes taped and stapled to the walls; a method of providing insulation that he was plenty familiar with. As a child his father had taken him hunting and they’d crashed in a cabin kinda like this, only it hadn’t been there’s. His Pa had lied about that, though he and Merle had both laughed when the real owner came and kicked their drunk asses out, leaving Daryl stumbling to catch up to them as they headed home. 

Unlike that hunting cabin, clearly well-used, this entire thing looked abandoned. He saw a few wooden chairs, a sturdy table, and a couple buckets, but not much else except dust and dirt. The only things of real interest were the fireplace against the opposite wall, and more oddly, a large white cooler sitting on the floor in front of it. His Dad’d had one just like it, only it had been red and in the summer it had always been full of ice and cans of beer that would glisten with droplets of water every time he pulled one free. This one was empty though and had been for a long time. The lid was missing and its sides were stained, and it was just sitting there randomly in the middle of the floor of the cabin. 

He found nothing inside when he went up and peered into it, but his gaze lingered. So did Beth’s when she came to stand next to him, peering down into the empty container as if they both expected they might find something there if they looked long enough.

But of course there was nothing. Not in the cooler, hell, not in the whole place. It was an abandoned hunter’s cabin plain and simple, but it had a door that shut solidly and a roof over head and frankly that was good enough for him, tonight. 

“C’mon,” he grunted out, slinging his bow back over his back and then bending down to flip the cooler upside down. “Sit.” 

“What?” 

She blinked up at him in confusion, but she was moving to take a seat even before he began to answer, “Gonna check that arm an’ rewrap it. Then we can get this place secure for the night. Sound good?”

Daryl waited until she gave a nod and a smile, because despite his gruffness this really was meant to be a team plan. Everything was now, with the two of them. Sometimes that was a conscious effort and other times it just happened, but it always felt natural now regardless. Gone were the years and years- decades, even- when his decisions had always been about what Merle wanted. Now it was Beth. Or him _and_ Beth, because despite the fact that he’d often willingly do what she wanted, he knew she’d never even ask him to do something if she didn’t think he wanted to.

He lowered himself to his knees in front of her and settled his bag close, and as he began to unwrap her arm so he could examine it, she remarked, “So what do you think? Was anyone staying here?” 

In response he just looked up at her, raising an eyebrow as if to ask silently: What do _you_ think?

Her little giggle made a smile flicker briefly across his lips before he looked down again. His touch was gentle, careful peeling away the layers of her dirty bandage as above him she answered her own question, “It’s dusty, so I don’t think anyone has lived here in a bit. But there’s… footprints, here and there.” Beth’s gaze swept the floor for them again as she continued, “Like maybe someone- or more than one person- were in here at some point, semi-recently. I don’t think they were walkers, either.” At his questioning grunt, she clarified, “Well, the footsteps are normal, not staggering. Plus, you know, walkers aren’t very good at politely opening and closing doors, in general.”

That got another chuckle out of Daryl as he undid the last of her bandage and set it aside. Gingerly he began to inspect her arm, applying pressure carefully and frowning when one or two of his gentle touches made her wince.

“Don’t think you re-fractured it or anything,” he remarked after a few moments, “But y’ definitely strained it. Or that piece of shit walker did, anyway.” He sat back on his heels for a moment, surveying the room around them. “Might be a good idea to brace it again for a day or two. Make sure it’s set well, just in case.” 

He rose to his feet, looking for something he could use to brace her arm with, as behind him Beth gave a sigh. “I’ll be more careful, next time. I shouldn’t have put my arm up like that. I’m such an idiot sometimes.”

“You ain’t an idiot, Beth.” Daryl turned to her, hating the frown he saw on her lips, his gaze as intent as his voice was as he went on firmly, “You made a mistake but you were just acting in the heat of the moment, on instinct. None of that makes you an idiot, alright? Besides, next time you’ll remember.” 

The furrow in her brow smoothed out, and he was rewarded with a smile that he couldn’t resist responding to, and not just with a smile of his own. Forgetting the task at hand he found himself crossing back to her. Sitting on the cooler the way she was, her head came up to his stomach now, and when he reached out to cup her face he had to lean down to meet her. His lips pressed to the top of her head as he lowered slowly into a crouch, resting his forehead against hers just like he had back in the woods when he was all full of relief that she was safe and unharmed.

He still felt that relief right now, but there was more to it. A different sort of depth. He felt relief simply that she was there. That she was with him, that she had no intention of being anywhere else and neither did he. Despite neither of them knowing what tomorrow would bring, let alone tonight, he felt content just having her there with him, forehead pressed to his, lips parting to exhale her breath and allow it to mingle with his own.

They sat there like there for half a minute, until her soft hum had him pulling back to look at her. His fingers traced along the curve of her cheek, lingering a few moments later until finally he made himself rise back up to his feet and crossing over to the window by the table. “Let’s get that arm of yours wrapped up again, and then secure this place and settle in for the night, alright?”

Take the planning one day at a time, that was what was best these days. Tomorrow or in the next couple days maybe they’d head out again, follow those marks carved into the trees and see where they lead. But tonight it was Beth’s wrist, then securing this cabin, and doing their best to get a good night’s rest. Well that, and apparently also...

“Can we use the fireplace before it gets dark?” Beth’s sweet voice cut into his thoughts. “Have some warm dinner, maybe heat up some beans?”

Standing by the side window he eyed the trees through the glass, searching for a branch that would be just the right size for him to cut off, peel the bark away and turn it into splints for her wrist again. But at the sound of her question he turned, lips quirking into a half smile. “If that’s what you want, then yeah.”

“Oh, is this a _what Beth wants_ kinda night? Cause in that case, I also vote for having some pecans, _and_ settling in to read tonight once we get everything secure.” From her seat on the cooler she flashed him a grin, her happiness and the way it seemed to brighten even the air in this dingy cabin keeping him mesmerized as always. “So is that a yes?” 

As he drew his knife and made his way to the door, Daryl just gave a grunt and rolled his eyes, acting as if she were being completely ridiculous going on about a ‘what Beth wants kinda night’.

But he knew the truth. As far as he was concerned, every night could be a _what Beth wants_ kinda night, when it came to stuff like she was asking for, and frankly he wouldn’t mind one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed that, I honestly do. Thank you all for continuing to read and thanks in advance for any comments you leave; I love every single comment I get and they always fuel me to keep writing. (I'd especially love to know if y'all recognized the familiar location in here!)
> 
> And if you haven't see it yet, please check out [When I See You Again](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4017235), the very long (33k+ words) one-shot I posted last week.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth and Daryl take some time to recuperate at the cabin, and share a few memories of their pasts before making some new memories of their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this, I've been a bit stressed lately with adult-life sort of problems. Adulthood is not fun, kids. Anyway I'm back and here with an update that I hope you enjoy, the fact that I've been up and down multiple times on whether I like it or not!

“Alright… what was the last movie you remember watching?”

“ _Last_ movie?” It was after dinner and they were sitting side by side on the floor in front of the fire. Their conversation had been random, ranging all evening through dinner and beyond, from silly things like favorite colors, to favorite seasons and now, apparently, movies.

“Yeah, you know… like the last movie you remember seeing before…” Beth trailed off and then raised her hands in the air, gesturing around them both as if in illustration.

“Before everythin’ went t’ shit, you mean?”

“You’re silly.” She smiled at him, a sweet one accented by a little playful tilt of her head. “But yeah, I mean…” Leaning beside him with her palms pressed to the wood floor behind her, Beth stretched out her long, jean-clad legs in front of her. He could see her toes wiggling in her socks as she shifted her feet closer to the fire, and it made a smile tug at his lips as she went on, “Like the last one I remember watching is, um…. Oh! The Princess Diaries. I watched it with Maggie, I think...”

“Ain’t never heard of that one before.” It wasn’t that he’d not seen a lot of movies; he had. It was just that, well, a movie with “Princess” in the title hadn’t exactly been at the top of his list.

“Mmm, it’s about a girl whose grandmother comes to visit and tells her she’s secretly a Princess, and the grandmother is a Queen, and you know, she has to decide whether to be a princess or a normal girl…”

He couldn’t resist the little snort that slipped free at her summary. But when he glanced down at her, Beth was smiling up at him rather that looking annoyed as she replied, “What? Oh come on, it’s a cute movie!” 

“Be honest,” Daryl teased, looking down at her through the fringe of dark hair that had fallen into his eyes, “Did you think maybe someone would show up, tellin’ you ‘bout how you were secretly a princess?” 

“ _No_...” But even as she made her denial he caught sight of her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth and seconds later her giggles bubbled free. 

Daryl might have teased her further; the words surely were there at the tip of her tongue. But she turned to press her face against his shoulder as she laughed, and he was so suddenly struck by her sweetness and how goddamn cute she was that he forgot to tease her. All he could do was faintly smile as he watched her, drinking in the sight of her all flushed with amusement, eyes bright and lit up by her smile and her laughter. 

He could have watched her laugh all night, frankly. Just sitting with her in front of the fire, the cabin as secure as they could make it, a dinner of pecans and warm beans settling in their stomachs… and Beth, happy and laughing. 

When her laughter finally trailed off, the smile remained, lingering on Beth’s lips as she looked up at him and teased, “You didn’t answer my question, anyway. What was the last movie you remember watching?” 

“Dunno,” he said gruffly, pulling his gaze from her smiling face for a moment to glance at the fire ahead, hoping she couldn’t see on his face that he wasn’t being entirely truthful. It wasn’t like he wanted to lie… but he wasn’t about to tell Beth that he was pretty sure the last movie he remembered seeing was some shitty porno Merle had on in their hotel room. It wasn’t like he could follow up some cute Princess movie with Mindy Plays the Football Team, or whatever the hell it had been. Daryl cleared his throat and let his gaze drift back to her, trying _not_ to think of what he definitely did remember, trying not to picture naked limbs and hands sliding over bare skin as he focused on her and roughly added, “Don’t remember.”

(Funny though, that back then the sight of it on the screen had pretty much done nothing for him, and now he found himself shifting in place and trying in vain not to look over at her.)

“Okay.” Her response was as simple and easy the smile on her lips as Beth leaned into him, nudging his arm with her own. “Then what’s your _favorite_ movie?” She shifted to rest her chin on his shoulder, peering up at him as she remarked, “I always have such a hard time answering that question. Either my brain goes completely empty, or I think of every movie I ever watched and loved, you know?” 

Grunting in acknowledgement, Daryl found himself reaching up with his free hand to absentmindedly tuck a stray bit of hair behind her ear, the gesture so natural and casual that he barely even realized he was doing it. “Dunno what my favorite is.” He started to give a shrug but then, knowing she would want an answer and genuinely wanting to give her something other than shrugs or grunts, he went on, “Used t’ like them old action movies, y’know… cowboys, or old detective movies, like th’ books we’ve been readin’. But, uh… there is one I remember likin’ when I was younger… you know, the one with the dinosaurs?”

Beth’s nose crinkled up in thought (making him think of a bunny, only a hell of a lot cuter) as she replied, “Jurassic Park?” When he nodded she beamed, and went on, “Oh, I love that movie! We used to have a copy of it on tape when I was younger. I wasn’t allowed to watch it until I was like 10, though, my Mama thought it would scare me. I think it still did a bit.” 

Though he chuckled, the mention of her seeing it as a kid made his mind wander. “Saw it when it was in theatres,” he remarked, clearing his throat again as his gaze drifted back to the fireplace. “Sometimes after school, instead of goin’ home I’d go to the movie theatre in town.” The truth was he hadn’t done it out of a love of movies, at least not at first anyway. He’d done it because it was a way to avoid going home. “Didn’t always have money t’ pay, but one of Merle’s friends worked the ticket counter an’ he’d sneak me in sometimes. Saw Jurassic Park there, sittin’ in the back of the theatre.” 

He could still remember it. Sitting alone in the dark by himself, staring up wide-eyed at the screen at the dinosaurs running rampant. How many movies had he seen that way? How many people had he watched come in and out, stomach rumbling at the sight of their trays full of food while he went without because he couldn’t afford to buy even a small bag of popcorn? How many couples did he eye making out in the back row, wishing they’d stop stealing his favorite seats and wondering what the hell the appeal was anyway. Why would anyone come to a movie and do _that_ instead of watchin’?

And yet… here he was. Sitting side by side with a pretty girl who had her chin on his shoulder and was smiling up at him so sweetly. A girl who he knew that he could kiss, if he wanted to, just like those couples had kissed in the darkened back seats of that tiny movie theatre, ignoring the sticky floors and the overly loud speakers in favor of locking lips with each other. 

He’d never understood the appeal of it then, as a surly and hungry kid who just wanted to spend those hours escaping from his shitty life. But now, sitting there looking down at her and her smile… he thought maybe he understood the appeal. 

Breaking into his thoughts, Beth gave a half-giggled, “What?”

“Hm?”

“Why’re you looking at me like that? One minute you were talking about Jurassic Park and then you were just looking at me…” Playfully solemn, she teased, “Were you wonderin’ what my favorite dinosaur is, Mr. Dixon?”

He gave her a little smile as his hand reached up again, fingers brushing over the curve of her cheek. “Was rememberin’ all those times I’d sit in the back of the movie theatre by myself, seein’ people come in with their friends, or you know… with their dates, or whatever. Makin’ out in the back like no one could see ‘em.” 

“You never went to the movies with a girl?”

Her soft, curious question had him shaking his head. “Nah.” He’d never wanted to, really, even if he could’ve found a girl who would’ve said yes to a guy like him. “What about you?” He didn’t doubt what her answer would be. He just knew a girl like her would have gone to the movies with her friends, or even with a date. She’d have been one of those too-pretty girls coming in with a gaggle of friends, giggling and laughing and whispering to each other during the movie. Or one of the ones that came in with her date and sat beside him, her cheek on his shoulder and their hands clasped together.

He tried not to let himself think about if she’d have done anything else if she’d have been the type to steal kisses in the darkness of the back row. But the thoughts crept into his mind even as she replied, “I’d go sometimes with Maggie, or with my friends. And… once or twice with Jimmy, you know, on dates.” 

Unexpected jealousy surged within him, churning in his belly and making him grunt out a reply before he turned his gaze almost sharply to the fire instead. But beside him, she leaned in a little bit more, her shoulder and hip pressed to his as her chin found it’s place on his shoulder again. “We never made out or anything at the movie theatre. Jimmy was a gentleman. Plus he was always afraid my Daddy would find out somehow, I swear he thought Daddy was psychic or all-seeing or somethin’...”

Curiosity got the best of him as he glanced briefly back at her, torn between the light of the fire and the light in her eyes as he asked, “An’ what about you? Were you too afraid?” 

“No. I dunno. Maybe I was then, with Jimmy. But...” From the corner of his eye he saw Beth bite her lip, the straight line of her teeth dimpling that perfect pink flesh before she leaned in and whispered near his ear, “I wouldn’t have been afraid with you.” 

_That_ certainly got his attention. Both the words and the way she whispered them so low and close that her breath ghosted across the shell of his ear and made the hairs stand up slightly at the back of his neck. Feeling a tendril of heat uncurling in his belly, he pulled his gaze fully away from the fire once more to look down at her, raising one eyebrow until she gave him a slow smile and an innocent looking shrug.

“I’m just saying…”

“Just sayin’ what, Greene?” 

“That… I’d have loved to go to the movies with you. That I’d have sat with you in the back row and held your hand…” Her hand, resting on the ground behind her, shifted over until it found his. As her fingers grazed over the back of his hand, she went on softly, “I’d have kissed you in the back of the theatre, too. And I wouldn’t have cared if people could see us. I wouldn’t have cared one bit, with you.” 

It was just too much to hear and not do anything. His head was all full up; past memories mixing in with present moments, that lonely surly teenager turned not-so-surly adult staring down at the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. Pretty like the girls who’d come into those dark theatres lit up with laughter, not a single one of them even casting a glance in his direction. Only right now, Beth only had eyes for him; her gaze so intent he didn’t dare pull back or break away. All he could do was the exact opposite. Just reach up and cup her cheek with his large, rough palm, tilting her head back and leaning in to press his lips to hers. 

It wasn’t a movie theatre. They were on the floor instead of in seats, the only soundtrack was the distant hooting of owls beyond the thin walls, and the flickering light came from the fire and not an oversized screen. But she was there, and she was letting him kiss her, and when he closed his eyes Daryl could almost imagine the hint of popcorn salt on her lips or the sweetness of fizzy soda on her tongue. When his hand shifted to cup her hip and brush up her side, he could imagine they were in some dark back row and that the little giggle she gave was out of delight at the idea that anyone might look back and see them necking like two teenagers.

Plus the whole not-a-movie-theatre thing had its advantages, too. For example, there was the way that after a few minutes of slow, hungry kissing, he could lower her back until they were both on their sides, lying on the blanket he’d spread out across the cabin floor, legs tangled, his hand still drifting over the curve of her hips to the dip of her side and upwards. There was the fact that they didn’t have to worry about dividers and drink holders getting in their way as they pressed closer to one another, all tangled limbs and warm bodies curled together on the ground, only breaking their kisses to gasp for breath.

Yeah, there was no denying he saw the appeal now of making out in darkened rooms with pretty girls who giggled and flushed and sighed so nicely. 

“You never told me,” he said a little while later, when their kisses had trailed off long enough for them to both truly catch their breaths. His voice rough with both breathlessness and desire, he added, “What your favorite movie is.” 

“Oh.” Laying against his side and half on top of him now that he’d rolled onto his back, Beth smiled as she reached up and trailed her finger across his lower lip. “If I _had_ to choose right now? I think Dirty Dancing. You ever see that?”

“Mm,” he replied, his tone indicating he wasn’t really sure. 

“It’s a _really_ good movie. A romance, though, so I dunno if you’d have watched it. There’s this girl named Baby, you know, have you ever heard that line: _Nobody puts Baby in the corner_?”

“Baby?”

“Shhh.” Sticking her tongue out at him, Beth went on, “ _Anyway_. This girl named Baby goes to a resort with her family, and she ends up falling for the resort dance instructor, Johnny, when she offers to fill in for his dance partner. It’s a lot more complicated than that, but it’s a really good movie. She comes from this rich family and he’s kind of more struggling to get by, and they kind of hide their relationship but eventually she exposes the truth to try and save him, and in between there’s lots of great dancing. It’s really romantic, honestly.”

Alright so maybe something about that summary tugged at something in him. Maybe it sounded just a little bit familiar as he smirked at her and teased, “At least your family never called you Baby, huh?” 

“No, just _Bethy_ , which is almost as bad.” She shifted up a bit, leaning over on his chest to look down at him as the pad of her finger trailed across his lower lip again. “I wish I could show you the movie though, I think you’ll like it. There’s this one line that gets me every time. The whole scene, really. It’s right before they give in and make love for the first time, and Johnny is telling Baby how he’s never known anyone like her. How she tries to make the world better.”

Silence fell between them as she spoke; if it was accented by the hooting of owls or the cracking of the fire, Daryl heard neither. All he heard was Beth’s soft voice, all he saw was the distant warmth in her expression, the change in the way she looked at him as she went on, “And you know, she tries to play it off, tries to say all she did was go get her Dad for help and that’s nothing, and Johnny… Johnny tells her how brave she is, and how it’s like she’s not scared of anything. And she says…” Trailing off for just a moment to trail her fingers once more back over his lips, Beth murmured, “She says… She’s scared of everything you know? Who she is and what they saw. And then she says my favorite bit, she says… _And most of all I'm scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my whole life the way I feel… when I'm with you._ ”

Halfway through her fingers stilled and her eyes lifted to lock onto his. As she spoke he felt his breathing hitch, felt not only that sensation of warmth building within him to fill his veins, but that sense of _rightness_ too.

Because those words. Lord, those words. He understood them. He _felt_ them. He’d never been the kinda guy to be affected by simple words in that way before, but the way she said them, the look in her eyes as she breathed them out, and the way they made him feel… he just… _understood_. Because she had been right before, when she’d called him scared. As much as he liked to deny it, Daryl had been scared before. He’d been scared of losing their family, scared of realizing it was his fault, scared of not knowing what to do with the blonde-haired girl who trusted him with his life.

But now, more than anything, he was scared that he might lose her, and never again feel like _this_. The way he felt when he was with her.

And the only thing he could think to do, the only thing it felt _right_ to do, was to raise his hands, cup her face, and draw her down so he could kiss her again. 

It was only later, after their lips were swollen from kisses and their hands nicely warmed from slipping under each other’s shirts to graze over skin and she was half-asleep tucked against him, that he let his chin come to rest on her forehead and whispered, “You know, I think you’re right. I might’ve liked that movie. If I got to watch it with you, anyway.” 

Not that he needed to, though. Cause being here with her was not only better than sitting in some dark movie theater. _Being_ with her was a hell of a lot better than any damn movie had ever been, too.

* * *

Though the fire had been burnt down to embers by the time they woke up, it had still been so nice and toasty warm curled up against Daryl’s side. Truth be told, Beth hadn’t wanted to move. She just wanted to stay there, feeling his broad chest beneath her and his arm heavy around her, her body rising and falling along with his inhaled breaths, all wrapped up in his warmth.

When he’d gently nudged her off him and sat up, she’d grumbled in discontent, even though she knew rationally that they couldn’t sleep all morning. Laying on her side next to him, her body still curved to the shape of his, she blinked sleepily up at him, watching as he stretched his arms over his head. With a hum she snuggled closer to his side and curled one leg over his in a silent request (or maybe an attempt at temptation) for him to stay. 

“You gonna trap me down here, Greene?” 

Looking up at his amused expression, Beth gave him a hazy little smile and hummed, “Mmm… I might… it’s just so nice and warm, that’s all.” Of course she knew they couldn’t sleep all day, honestly she did. Gone were the days of staying in bed until the late morning sun filtered in the window. There were no more lazy Saturdays with late breakfasts, staying in her PJs half the day and reading in bed. 

But she couldn’t help wanting it a little. The longing she’d felt last night as they’d talked and teased about movie theatres and kissing lingered today in the light of morning, turning into a new sort of longing. One that whispered about wanting to stay right here cuddled up under a blanket in front of a banked fire. There was no big bed, no pajamas, no late breakfast of pancakes and bacon… but she didn’t really need any of that. Just like she had been happy kissing him last night in a dark cabin instead of a movie theatre, she’d be happy this morning just napping with him under a warm blanket on a cabin floor instead of in a big fluffy bed. 

He watched her with a faint smile on his lips and reached down to gently brush back her soft, sleep-mussed hair. “Ain’t sayin’ I’m not tempted,” he murmured in a sleep-roughened voice that coaxed another sigh to her lips, “But I gotta go out for a bit, you know… check the perimeter. Take a piss.” 

The little smirk he gave at that last bit was timed perfectly with the face she made, nose all crinkled up as she fell back to the ground and stuck her tongue out at him. It wasn’t like the two of them weren’t used to having to say things like that, after all, it was just the pair of them and it had been for a long time. Still, he just _had_ to say it all bluntly when she was half-asleep and curled up against him and trying to tempt him into staying with her. 

“Go on,” she said, waving at the door as she teased, “Your loss, though.” It was meant to be playful, and it was. The way they slept at night all curled up with each other was something they didn’t really talk about, not actively. Neither of them remarked on the fact that they always slept side by side together these days, or that they more often than not woke up essentially cuddled together, let alone that last night they’d fallen asleep with lips still swollen from kissing. So her words were just hinting at it, teasing as she often did… though when he looked down at her and climbed to his feet, she knew what she saw in his eyes was more than just playful.

There was a longing there, one she knew without a doubt meant that some part of him truly wished he could stay right where he’d been, down on the floor with her in his arms. 

That knowledge had her slowly sitting up, the blanket pooling around her waist as she drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. With her chin propped on her knees, Beth watched Daryl as he moved around the small, bare little cabin, tugging his vest back on before heading to the front door. 

“Be back in a few minutes, alright?” He cast a glance over his shoulder at her as he stood with his handle on the door. “Gonna do a look around, too, make sure everythin’ is okay.” The promise, though unspoken, was implicit. _I’ll come back_. It didn’t matter that he was only going outside for a few minutes; in the world they lived in, even a few minutes could be a risk, and they both needed that promise, even unspoken. 

Since it _was_ ‘just’ a quick trip outside, Beth wasn’t too worried though. So when he nodded at her and slipped out the front door she remained where she was, stretching her arms above her head and working out the kinks that tended to come after sleeping on a hard wooden floor. Truthfully, she kind of prefered the ground outdoors, even if it wasn’t as safe. Sure, grass made a far more comfortable bed than rough, unyielding wood, but walls and a locked door were far safer than a string of cans. It was a win/lose situation, in the end. 

After a couple minutes she rose to her feet and stretched up onto the tip of her toes as her gaze drifted to one of the windows. They’d covered them with some of the spare cardboard from the walls last night to try and block any glow from the light of their fire or the solar lamp. Now she crossed the floor to one of them and nudged the cardboard aside to peer through the dusty glass out the front of the cabin. 

The sun wasn’t quite high enough to peek over the tall trees just yet, but there was still enough sunlight for the clearing around the cabin to be dimly lit. She could see the abandoned car out to the left, and the road stretching into the distance in front of her. What she couldn’t see was any sight of Daryl, but that didn’t surprise her. He’d probably headed around back, doing his circuit of the place. 

They’d been together just the two of them for long enough that Beth was more than familiar with his routine and just how long it would take. She knew that first he’d make a circuit of the cabin, checking for signs of walkers and to see if anything or anyone had displaced the strings of cans they’d put up last night. Only then would he take a moment to relieve himself, as he always needed to in the morning and usually did his best to be out of her sight for if it were possible. Then he might make another round, looking for animal prints even, give things a more focused look-over, and finally, provided he didn’t find anything, he’d come back to her.

It usually took about five minutes, maybe seven. Ten, _tops_ Enough time for her to get up and stretch, change her clothes if needed, stoke up the fire and figure out what she wanted for breakfast that day. Like most days, all of this familiar routine was accompanied mentally by her running thoughts as she went over their plans for the day, or whatever else might be on her mind. If her thoughts were a bit dreamier today, Beth didn’t think she could be blamed. After all it wasn’t often these days that she got to think about the sort of things that put a flush on her cheeks and butterflies in her stomach, like the press of Daryl’s lips to hers last night or the memories of their teasingly flirtatious conversation. 

Given the sorts of things currently filling her mind, it was probably not too surprising that Beth lost track of time a little bit. As a teenager she’d been prone to day-dreaming as it was, and there was something about Daryl Dixon, unexpected as it was, that tended to make her thoughts wander, to have her focus going distant as she hummed to herself, smiling and flushed remembering even the simplest touch or the briefest exchange of words. 

It was only when she had breakfast all set up that she realized she was still alone. When she glanced around there was no Daryl to pass the mixed bowl of canned fruit and pecans too, not even a glimpse of him from the corner of her eye that she could call out to in order to tease him into coming to eat.

Worry furrowed her brow as she rose slowly to her feet and moved to the window. How long had it been? She hadn’t been distracted for _too_ long. The sun was only just peaking over the tops of the trees, so it couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes… longer than his usual morning routine, but not too long, right? Not long enough for her to worry that something had gone wrong, at least. After all she hadn’t heard any commotion from outside, no grunts from walkers, or calls or cries from Daryl. 

Rationally she knew there was no need to worry. He had been perhaps five or ten minutes longer than he normally was, there was nothing else to raise any alarms… and yet as she stood there at the window and peered out into the clearing lit by the rising sun, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. A hint of nervousness unwound itself in the pit of her stomach, a line of tension pulling a little bit tighter as she stared out into the clearing around the cabin and saw no sign of him. The bushes didn’t part to reveal his tall figure, there wasn’t even a hint of his shadow patterning the ground by the side of the house, let alone the sound of the heft of his footsteps on the small wooden porch.

Maybe something _had_ gone wrong. Maybe something had grabbed him out there before he could make a sound. Maybe a walker had bitten him, or whoever had left those marks carved into the bark of the trees had doubled back and found him and dragged him off before he had time to fight back. Or maybe he was out there right now, injured, needing her help. 

That line of tension twisted itself into a knot in her belly that made her feel unexpectedly almost sick. Rationally she knew it was Daryl, knew he could take care of himself, knew that he was okay… but the rational voice in her mind just couldn’t quite keep up with the frantic and worried whisper that was growing louder with each moment. With a grunt, she suddenly pushed away from the window and quickly crossed the small room to where her boots were set against the wall. In a few swift movements she was there and tugging them on, jamming her feet roughly into them and lacing them up with a speed born of frequent routine. 

As she rose to her feet she reached to her waist, fingers sliding over the hilt of her knife to pull it from it’s sheathe in a smooth and practiced motion. But just then, as she turned to stride towards the door intent on hurrying outside to find him... it opened. With a slow creak the wooden door swung open and there he was standing framed in the doorway, one hand rising from the handle to swipe back his hair as the other lifted, showing off the rabbit carcass dangling from his fingers. 

“Daryl!” Relief made her voice breathy even as it made the tension ease from her body so quickly that she slumped back against the wall. 

“Found us somethin’ good for lunch or maybe dinner,” he remarked as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “Found somethin’ else, too.” He turned then before going on, and his gaze lifted to her face. Whatever he saw there caused him to stop in the middle of the room, his brow marred by a furrow as he looked her up and down; from the slump of her body to the grip her fingers still loosely held around the handle of her knife. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. I am, honestly.” She exhaled a ragged sigh and then shifted to slip her knife back into its sheathe as she admitted, “You were gone longer than normal, and I… got worried, I guess. It was stupid.” 

In silence he crossed the space towards her, the quiet air filled only with the sound of his booted footsteps and the occasional squeak of the old floorboards until he was just a few inches from her. His head tipped down and his eyes held hers as Daryl paused just a moment, and then murmured in a low, gruff voice, “Ain’t nothin’ stupid ‘bout you, Beth. Definitely not this.” 

 

His hand came up to cup the side of her head, and when she didn’t say anything he went on, “Meant to get back sooner, but then I saw the rabbit in the brush and couldn’t resist. Figured I shouldn’t miss the opportunity. Should’ve still let you know, though…” He hesitated a moment, and then leaned in to gently kiss her forehead. “M’sorry.” At the press of his lips to her skin (a simple sign of affection that seemed a hundred times more poignant just by virtue of it coming from _Daryl_ of all people), Beth felt her worry slowly dissipate. He was okay. He was safe. And her worry wasn’t something to, well, worry about. It was natural, it was… well, it was just a sign of how much she cared about him.

It was the same care that showed in the smile on her lips as she nodded up at him, and then brushed her hand down his arm. “C’mon, I set out breakfast.” Just like that, any hint of frustration at him was easily forgotten. “You can clean up that rabbit after we eat, alright?” Slipping past him she crouched down to pick up the bowl of fruit and nuts, only to rise with a questioning look to ask, “Oh hey… what did you mean about finding something else outside?” 

After setting the rabbit on the table by the wall, Daryl crossed the space towards her and reached to take the offered bowl of fruit. As his fingers deftly picked out a few slices, he remarked, “Found some walkers outside, back in the brush.” He paused to bring up a slice of peach, lifting to his lips and slurping it into his mouth in a way that had Beth briefly distracted, more focused on the glint of juices on his lower lip than on letting his words register.

But when he swallowed after a moment and went on, she blinked away her distraction to focus on what he was saying again. “Looks like someone dragged ‘em back there, I reckon. Ain’t sure how they were killed… my guess would be someone impaled ‘em, on those posts off to the side of the house? Then they- or someone else- dragged her back into the brush behind the house. Ain’t sure why, though, or who.”

“Too hard to tell what really happened, with the rain washing all the tracks and blood away?” Beth dipped her fingers into the bowl, scooping up some fruit and nuts for herself and chewing them as she looked up at him.

“Mmm.” He paused, and flashed her a hint of a smirk that turned up the corners of his lips as he added, “That, an’ I ain’t no psychic, of course…”

“You’re _not_?” Affecting shock, Beth clutched at her chest with one hand; her eyes wide and her lips parted in an ‘O’ of surprise. “Well I have to say, I’m just stunned, Daryl Dixon. And here I was thinking you’d be able to predict my happy future.”

Her words could have brought a pall over their conversation, with the implicit possibility hiding within that her future _wouldn’t_ be so bright, or happy. The possibility might have been there, but Daryl seemed uninclined to take it. What he took instead was her hand, cupped in his much larger one and turned over so that he could peer down at her palm.

“Huh,” he grunted, brushing his thumb over her palm to trace across the lines etched into her once soft and now work-worn skin. “Wanna know what I see?” 

With a giggle that went slightly breathy in response to the stroking of his thumb over her palm, Beth replied playfully, “What do you see, oh wise one? A tall, dark stranger, perhaps?”

His snort was accompanied by a squeeze of her hand as their eyes both flicked up at the same time to meet. As she held his gaze, a little smile curved up her full lips; she might have been teasing, but the look in her eyes said everything. If there was a tall, dark-haired man in her future, he wasn’t a stranger. He was already standing right there in front of her, with the back of her hand cradled against the palm of his own.

“Nah,” he said after a moment, blinking away the intensity of their held gazes to look down once more into her palm. Leaning in, he studied the lines of her hand for a few minutes longer before he began to nod his head. “Mhmm, I see it now.”

“What?” 

“I see, in your future…” He drew out the pause, letting the silence linger until she caught sight of the faintest hint of a smile playing about his lips. “A growling stomach, ‘cause you were too busy staring at your own palm to eat breakfast.”

“Daryl!” With a laugh she drew her hand back, pushing lightly at his arm for a moment before reaching out to snatch the bowl from his hand. “Hah! I’ll show you, Dixon. Now who lost out on breakfast thanks to staring at my palm, hm?”

As she darted around the cabin in an attempt to avoid them, her squeals and giggles and his playfully rough words not only drowned out any lingering worry, but also the thought that she could possibly have a future that was anything but happy… or one that involved anything other than this man, at her side.

* * *

A day later, they left the cabin behind and headed off once more to follow the markings notched into the trees. Neither of them had any idea just _whose_ path they were following; whether it was their family, or someone else entirely. The idea that it might not be their family at all was one they left mostly unspoken between them. This morning over breakfast, they’d agreed to follow it at least to see where it leaded, though laden in the silences between their brief conversation was the silent understanding that at some point, if they found no sign of anyone familiar, or if they sensed danger in any way, the trail might be abandoned.

For now though, they continued to follow it. Side-by-side they walked through the woods, following the path marked by the circular, cross-marked signs. There was a faint breeze rustling both the leaves of the trees around them as well as their own clothing and hair. Beth felt relief at the stirring of the breeze, lifting the hair at the back of her neck to give her a little respite against the late summer warmth. 

Daryl walked beside her, running his fingers through his hair and occasionally glancing over at her with a hint of a smile. Last night they’d made a makeshift rabbit stew together, with the rabbit he’d found, some canned carrots, and some of the pecans, which had added an interesting texture to it. As a result, thanks to dinner last night and the leftovers this morning, they were both well fed, and filled with about as much energy as anyone could hope for these days.

Thanks to that energy, their normally quiet walk was interspersed occasionally with low chatter, or more frequently by Beth’s simple, soft humming. It was just one of those days. The sun was warm, she was full and awake, and every time she glanced over at Daryl she found a smile on her lips; so it was no wonder she couldn’t seem to stop herself from humming or, occasionally, from singing. 

_“I need to laugh and when the sun is out, I've got something I can laugh about. I feel good in a special way, I'm in..”_

Her soft, sweet words carried through the air as she walked, so caught up in her light singing that it took her a moment to realize that Daryl had slowed slightly beside her. She cut the song short as she turned. His name was on her lips, but she didn’t have to even voice it before he was murmuring, “Somethin’ up ahead. Look… Just past that tree there.” 

Head turning, her gaze sought out the tree he was pointing to. It was marked with another of those circular signs, and in the distance beyond she glimpsed the edges of a building just visible through the foliage. But the shape of it wasn’t clear, and it was impossible to tell just what it was; at least, until the pair of them passed the tree with the mark carved into it, and stepped up to the line of the woods to get their first clear, unaltered view of the building beyond… 

“Is that-”

“Yep.” 

As Beth stepped into the clearing, Daryl came up beside her, shading his eyes against the sunlight to examine the building in front of them. “Well, it ain’t what I was expectin’.” 

Hell, there was no denying that, though Beth might not have been sure just what they _had_ been expecting, to be fair. A group of people, maybe, or some kind of camp, or perhaps signs of a fight or struggle. 

But whatever that might have been, she knew without a doubt that neither of them had expected this. That neither of them had guessed that the odd but carefully placed signs carved into the trees would lead, of all places… to a boarded up, abandoned elementary school. 

All things considered, it wasn’t surprising that they were both left standing there at the edge of the woods, blinking over at the building and wondering just what they were meant to do next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should apologize for the end! I re-wrote it like times and then just gave up and decided to post it where it was, haha. Dun dun dun! I bet maybe you all thought they'd end up somewhere else. Before you start asking questions, just know that more will be explained next chapter, and that this entire plot/path with the carvings in the tree comes from a "fan theory" I saw on line to explain the markings. I chose the one that I thought made the most sense, and so here we go. Stay tuned for a better explanation, I promise. 
> 
> Also, the song Beth is singing in the end is "Good Day Sunshine" by the Beatles, and yes I cut it off there on purpose, though you might enjoy looking up the lyrics to see what she was about to sing before Daryl interrupted.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl and Beth investigate the elementary school, and find a new path to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the shmoopy-lovey-dovey-ness of last chapter, this one is a lot more plot advancement than anything else, though I tried to work in a cute moment or two. Be forewarned (or fore-notified?) this chapter reveals quite a bit of the butterfly effect of Beth and Daryl staying together rather than getting separated. So if you find yourself wondering "hey why is that like that" or "wait shouldn't this look like this", it's not a "this is all wrong" situation but rather a "this is all changed" one! 
> 
> Notes at the bottom for the how and the whys of some changes, though, I promise. Enjoy!

Standing at the tree line, their feet toed the line between the leaf-strewn ground at the edge of the forest and the asphalt that stretched out beyond them. With no driveway or road leading up to it, Daryl could only assume it was some sort of play area rather than a parking lot; certainly there were no lines on the concrete to indicate otherwise. The square of asphalt was framed on two sides by the brick, l-shaped school building. Directly in front of them was the larger section of the building, which was several stories high and featuring numerous windows; some of them were shuttered and others open or broken, giving it the appearance almost of numerous blinking or staring eyes.

A smaller section branched out to their right, one story to the larger section’s two, with large windows that made Daryl suspect it might hold the school’s gym or perhaps an auditorium. The entire place had an air of desolation that was common these days, though it seemed even more noticeable here. Perhaps it was the associations that usually came along with buildings like this; the images a school painted in a person’s mind of ringing bells and the screams of children gathered around or running and forth. The lack of any of that made the cracked windows, the long, overgrown grass, and the trash-strewn asphalt seem even more forlorn looking, even more desolate and abandoned. 

It was only once both of them had fully scanned their surroundings that Daryl glanced at Beth and raised his eyebrow in silent question: _Ready_? He waited first for her nod of agreement, and only then took that first step forward, leaving the woods behind to stride cautiously across the pavement.

His gaze never stopped shifting, especially between the woods that surrounded them and the numerous windows the structure contained. Between the woods, the windows, and even the roof, there were far too many places people could be hiding with a gun or rifle trained on them, and Daryl felt dangerously exposed striding across the open asphalt. Not only himself but the woman at his side for whom he was far more concerned, though he did his best to fight the protective urges that rose up, whispering that he should tuck her safely behind him where she ran less risk of getting hit. 

Luckily they made it across the pavement without his worries proving true, soon reaching the stretch of grass beneath the windows of the larger section of the building. It was there in the shade of the structure that he spotted signs of something more than just random trash and dead leaves blown in by the breezes and winds. With Beth moving carefully beside him, Daryl’s careful footsteps had him rounding the edge of the pavement to peer down at the remains of what looked to be someone’s former campsite. 

“How recent is it?” Beth asked softly, keeping her voice low as she came up next to him to survey what lay before them. 

He didn’t answer out loud at first, instead choosing to slowly crouch down to survey the scene. Despite the recent rain he could still see a few matted down spots in the grass that he suspected marked where several people had been sleeping or sitting. “Hard to say,” he remarked, rubbing a hand over the scruff of his beard. Several soggy, wet magazines were scattered haphazardly to the side, and an old rain-soaked blanket lay discarded near the edge of the building. In the swaying grass, Daryl’s eyes picked out something else, the white of it stark against the vibrant green of the grass. 

Spotting it just as he did, Beth moved first, crossing around the edges of the matted grass to reach down and fish the scrap of white fabric from the ground. It was muddied by the dirt and rain but nonetheless recognizable; not just any scrap of fabric, but a collar. “This is a priest’s collar,” Beth remarked out loud, running her fingers around it with a frown as she returned to his side. “What is a priest’s collar doing out here?” 

He had no answer to her question, other than the sudden sense of wrongness that prickled across his raised skin. So his only reply was an unsure hum as his gaze shifted back to the stretch of grass they were examining. Just in front of them stood a tall metal pole, it’s sad and deflated ball still hanging from it by a worn rope, a forlorn reminder that this area had once been filled with playing kids who were now long gone-- many of them probably forever. Right beneath the dangling deflated ball, however, was the largest sign so far of the campsite that had once been here. The makeshift campfire was built from old cinder blocks, with a section of what looked like fencing laid over it to form a grill. 

Still crouched in silence, his eyes narrowed at the charred flesh that was somehow sitting on top of the grill. Rain and the elements and natural rot had done their damage over what had to be more than days, possibly even a couple weeks, but despite the mold that covered it the lump on top of the former fire was still obviously meat. He could even see the bone protruding from the edge of it.

The slow trajectory of Beth’s hand into his vision and towards the fire pit matched the pace of the dawning realization in his mind as he studied the moldy, charred shape, and as her fingers reached just scant inches from the oddly-shaped lump of meat, Daryl growled out, “Don’t!” Her hand froze and darted back, but before she could blurt out more than a ‘what?’ in a concerned and startled voice, he was pushing back and rising to his feet.

“Daryl-”

Turning towards her, Daryl lifted one hand to her shoulder and held her firmly. Giving a slow squeeze, he held her gaze as firmly as possible and said in a low voice that couldn’t be ignored, “Beth… you don’t wanna touch that.”

“Why not?” Beth blinked, gaze darting from him, to the campfire, and back again, “I mean it’s moldy and kinda gross, but isn’t it just a deer leg, or something?”

“No.” Daryl’s voice was thicker than normal, a note of disgust entering his usually gravelly voice. He was loath to put voice to his thoughts at all, let alone to _her_ ; not just because saying it out loud would make it real, but because he hated the thought of exposing something as sick and disgusting as his suspicions to Beth. But she was strong. She was strong and brave enough to handle this, and he had to tell her, so after a moment he went on hesitantly, “I don’t think that’s animal meat at all, Beth.” 

“But... If it’s not an animal then-” He was forced to watch as realization dawned for Beth as well; shock and then horror quickly following to chase away her confusion and mar her expressive face. “Oh god. Oh _no_.” She stumbled back, pressing her eyes and lips shut at the same time and clenching her fists at her side as she murmured breathlessly, “That can’t be- Are you _sure_ , Daryl? Oh, I think I’m gonna be sick.”

But despite the hitching in her throat she didn’t flee, and though disgust was etched across her face she held her ground, making him feel an odd sense of pride even amid the horrible situation they suddenly found themselves in. He opened his mouth to reassure her, but before he could she was suddenly raising her clenched fist and releasing her tight grip just enough to expose the priest’s collar she still held clutched within it.

“You don’t think this is from… oh god.” The fabric dropped from her hand, fluttering to the ground in a slow spiral that reminded him unexpectedly of the fall of a single feather through the air. 

Despite the hint of nausea churning his own stomach, when he reached out to her and gently squeezed her arm once more his voice remained calm and steady and measured. “There’s no way of knowing, Beth. Maybe it just blew in, on the breeze or somethin’. This place is full of trash. Without a body…” He broke off and swallowed hard, suddenly struck by the mental image of there being an actual body somewhere, missing what he guessed might be a single leg-- or perhaps far more. Drawing in a deep breath, he pressed on, “Ain’t no way of knowing for sure.” 

She seemed to calm somewhat under his touch, or perhaps at the reassurance of his low voice. Her gaze drifted once more to the disgusting piece of meat that clung to the gaps of the fencing it had been grilled on, but as he watched her saw her gaze slowly lift from it to fix instead of something behind him. Whatever it was she saw over his shoulder, it caused her eyes to widen, and by the time she lifted her hand to point he was already half-turned.

“Daryl-”

With the sudden tension in her voice there was no need for her to say more. At the sound of his name his gaze fixed in the direction she was pointing and he saw just what it was that had her eyes widening with worry. There, set slightly back into the corner where the two parts of the building met, was a double glass door. Only it wasn’t children that ran through the doors or pressed their faces to the glass to peer out in anticipation of recess anymore. The faces that pressed now to the smudged and dirty glass were far from childhood; they were rotted and bloody, jaws opening and closing in hunger as their hands began to slap on the glass.

“C’mon,” Beth murmured, beating him to the punch. “The longer we stay here, the more likely it is they’ll break down that door trying to get to us.” 

So with only one last glance over their shoulders, they turned and made their way back across the pavement, leaving behind not only the walkers that pressed their hungry faces to the glass, but also the abandoned campfire and it’s horrifying contents. 

Daryl looked back once more as they rounded the corner of the building, and for a moment he thought he could just see the flash of the white priest’s collar on the ground, before it disappeared from view.

* * *

_So what do we do now?_

The question was on the tip of his tongue and he could only guess it was on Beth’s too, judging by the way she kept glancing over at him as they moved around the edge of the woods. For the moment neither of them gave voice to it though, choosing instead to study the building and the area around it for any more signs that someone- perhaps even their family- had once been here.

The campsite had revealed something utterly disgusting, but it wasn’t the sort of sign they had been looking for. Horrifying contents aside, it said nothing about the fate of their family, and in a way only served to reiterate that the trail they were following was tenuous at best when it came to the possibility that it might lead to their loved ones. 

So they were left to pick their way around the edges of the building, following the stretch of grass between the woods and the school. As they walked, they searched for signs of footprints or campsites or messages-- anything that might give them a sign, even as both of them avoided giving voice to the idea that there might not be a sign to find at all.

As he strode almost silently through the grass, instinctively avoiding leaves that might crunch beneath his feet, Daryl’s focus was pulled by a scrap of old newspaper blowing past in the breeze. His eyes narrowed just enough to see a blur of words before it blew past him, fluttering up on a swirl of air to smack flat against the trunk of a tree.

It was the tree itself, rather than the newspaper flattened against it, that brought Daryl to a sudden stop. “Hey,” he murmured, lowly but urgently enough that Beth instantly came to a stop a few feet ahead of him and glanced over her shoulder at him. “Look.” 

Her gaze turned to follow the pointing of his finger, and both of them fixed their sights on the tree beyond. There, carved into the wood above the wind-plastered piece of newspaper, was a slashed mark.

Eyebrow raised, Beth remarked, “Would it be pointing out the obvious for me to say that’s not the same mark as before?” 

Surprised into a snort of laughter by her dry tone, Daryl glanced down at Beth as she came up beside him. There was a hint of a smile on her lips too as she looked up at him, tipping back her head to meet his gaze as she ran her fingers through her pulled-back hair.

“Probably,” he replied after a moment, pulling his gaze from her to let it stray back to the tree. “But y’ wouldn’t be wrong, anyway.” 

Unlike the marks they’d been following all the way here- X-marks carved into the trees with a circle slashed around them- this mark was entirely different. Instead it looked like someone has slashed to the right and then down, making a mark almost like an ‘r’ that had tipped forward. Like the others it didn’t seem entirely fresh, and he might have guessed it was at least a week old, but quite possibly more than that. It wasn’t an exact science, after all.

Filled with curiosity, he and Beth approached the tree together. As his hand came up to brush away the newspaper that clung to the trunk, Beth reached up to trace her fingers over the shape etched into the wood. “Maybe someone else made this one?”

“Or the same people,” Daryl mused, shifting after a moment to peer into the woods beyond, looking for more marked trees and the possibility of a new path to follow.

“The same people leaving behind a different symbol?” The pause that followed her question had him glancing back at her just in time to see her eyes light up. It was as if he could literally see the gears turning in her head, her clever mind racing through the possibilities to finally muse aloud, “Maybe they’re kind of like park trails. You know, each trail or path is marked by a different symbol or color?” 

The smile he gave her was as filled with pride as the look in his eyes was, and even though his only reply out loud was a hum and a “maybe”, he knew she could see it nonetheless. There was a smile curving up her own lips when she met his gaze, and for a moment she leaned into him, allowing their arms to press lightly together for a few seconds before she turned her eyes back to the tree, and ventured hesitantly, “So… do we follow it?” 

He stayed quiet for a moment, but it was her face that he was studying in the silence, not the mark on the tree. It wasn’t really the mark that was important to him, after all, or even the trail it might or might not represent. What was important was _Beth_. What she wanted to do- what _they_ decided they wanted to do- that was what mattered. So it was her eyes that he searched, looking for an answer, or perhaps to at least judge whatever she was feeling about the question itself.

With Daryl remaining silent and watching her, Beth murmured after a moment, “We don’t have to follow it. But... I don’t know. I just feel like… like a part of me wants to, anyway. I know we don’t _have_ to, but at the same time I kind of feel like... we do?” With a chuckle and another brush of her fingers through the loose tendrils of hair that had come free to frame her face, Beth added, “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Nah,” he said instantly, shifting faintly beside her with a little nod. “It does.” They weren’t obligated to follow it, was what she meant. They weren’t being forced to. Yet both of them were curious, both of them felt, perhaps, that they _needed_ to follow the markings on the trees. Just to see where they lead. Just to know, for sure. 

Breaking the silence that had fallen between them in the wake of his distracted thoughts, Beth brushed her arm against his once more, tipping back her head to smile at him as she teased, “Plus it’s like a mystery, you know? I feel like we’ve just gotta unravel it. _Nancy Drew and the Mystery of the Marks_.”

Like a flower turning to the sun, his head instinctively tipped down to look into her gaze as a faint smirk pulled at corner of his lips. Though he snorted his amusement with a hint of laughter that rumbled in his chest, Daryl couldn’t help but add gruffly, “Ain’t no Nancy Drew, though.”

“Oh sorry, my mistake,” Beth replied playfully, tongue poking rather temptingly from the corner of her mouth for a second before she added, “Maybe you can be a Hardy boy, would that be better?” Before he could reply, she made a sunburst gesture in the air with her hands as she proclaimed, “ _Beth Drew and Daryl Hardy in... The Mystery of the Marks_. What do you think?” 

All he could do really was shake his head at that. Yet even as his head shook, his body was turning towards her, instinctively giving in to an unexpected urge to touch her that had him reaching out with one hand to cup the curve of her hip. “Think you’re silly,” he remarked, his voice low with a new hint of roughness to it. 

“Yeah, but you like my kind of silly,” Beth shot right back, a sweet and deceptively innocent smile on her lips as she leaned into the touch of his palm on her hip and turned her body towards his, too.

There was no denying the truth of her words. It was ‘her kind of silly’ that’d had his hand reaching for her in the first place. When she was playful like this it made him forget pretty much everything that troubled him. It made the weight of the world ease, so that all he felt was a fluttering lightness inside. It made him just wanna chuckle and smile right along with her, no matter what they were dealing with. “Guess your silly ain’t so bad,” he teased, fingers lightly grazing over her jean-clad hip and lingering for just a moment on the hint of skin exposed by the gap between her tank top and the waistband of her jeans.

That single touch of skin was enough to send a little shiver of heat through him; another new sensation he was prone to getting around Beth these days, and one that he relished as much as he felt thrown off-kilter by it. Reluctantly, not wanting to give into that sort of distraction while they were standing outside a building they already knew was filled with walkers, Daryl drew his hand back slowly, hooking his fingers over the strap of his crossbow instead before clearing his throat. “C’mon,” he remarked, the warmth in his eyes belying the gruffness of his brisk tone, “If we wanna track these marks, we should get a move on. Whatever it leads to, I don’t reckon we’ll want t’ come on it at night.” 

If the marks were at all connected to what they’d left behind, rotten and abandoned on that makeshift campfire, then Daryl had a feeling they _definitely_ wouldn’t want to find the makers of these marks after the sun had set. 

With that thought clinging ominously to the back of his mind, they turned and headed into the woods, leaving the elementary school behind to follow the path laid out instead by the new slashed marks on the trees.

* * *

This time their path was a far shorter one. It didn’t just wind it’s way at random through the trees, but eventually turned to follow an old dirt path that was covered in fallen leaves and wind-blown pieces of garbage. It was perhaps a three minute walk, if that, before they got their first glimpse of the structure through the trees in a flash of white that peaked between the green foliage. As they closed the distance and made their way alongside the dirt path, the flashes of white slowly resolved into the shape of a long wall of whitewashed wood interspersed with windows, the entire thing capped by a peaked roof above it and what looked to be a small, almost tower-shaped structure.

“I think it’s a _church_ ,” Beth remarked at his side, breaking the silence and lifting her hand to trace the shape of the building in the distance. “See? That’s the bell-tower, and those shapes down there around the base, those look like headstones.” 

He couldn’t be 100% sure about the church just yet (though he was pretty sure she was right), but the shape of the headstones was pretty unmistakeable as they got closer. They were clustered around the trees in the yard of the prison, sectioned off by low wrought iron fences. If the sight of them conjured up a hint of ominousness over him, it wasn’t simply because of what they literally represented as markers of the dead; after all, they were surrounded by signs of the dead pretty much constantly, these days.

No, what he saw as they approached the gravestones arranged around the side of the white building was a reminder instead of another building surrounded by tombstones, an ominous warning that he and Beth had ignored almost to their own downfall. Or at least to the near-destruction of their partnership, anyway.

The memory wormed its way into his mind, adding a hesitancy to Daryl’s movements as they slowly approached the white building ahead. The closer they got, the more certain he was that Beth was right about it being a church, too; the little tower was most certainly a steeple, and as they passed a few trees, the cross perched on top of it became clear. 

Together they came to a stop by the final tree, its bark scarred by the same slash mark they had been following here from the school. With one hand resting on the sturdy tree trunk, Daryl looked out and surveyed the scene. 

The church was certainly old, as far as he could tell. Its white painted sides were weathered with age, the roof showing wear and tear in between the spots where it was covered by fallen leaves and other detritus. The side they had approached from was lined with windows, none of them barred or blocked in any way, though they weren’t close enough to see inside from here. 

The lack of boarded-up windows didn’t exactly surprise him; though it was common to find homes and businesses boarded up these days, not _every_ structure had been turned into a makeshift shelter or had people barricaded within it. Beneath the windows, overgrown brush grew up the sides of the church, though they were not quite thick enough yet though to hide the gap he could see beneath the ground and the bottom of the building, the shadows clinging there suggesting that perhaps there was some sort of crawl-space underneath. 

It was Beth at his side who eventually moved, drawing away from the marked tree to head towards the back of the church. Though neither of them had spotted a sign that anyone was present, she still signaled rather than spoke, gesturing to the back with her hand and then curving it around to suggest that they circle around the back and head around the other side to the front to get a clear look at every inch of the place. 

Like the school before it, this place had an air of desolation that was especially unnerving. Perhaps it was simply the fact that it was a church; although Daryl had been far from a church goer himself, it wasn't hard for him to look at the place and imagine it full of people, chattering and catching up after a Sunday service. He might not have ever experienced a church himself, but he’d seen enough of them from a distance and in television and movies to know what they often looked like, filled to the brim with congregants. 

Maybe that, or the lack of it, was what made the place seem so eerie. Maybe that was what made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up just a little bit more than usual as he and Beth slowly circled around to the back of the building, gradually working their way closer to the old, white washed walls.

Or maybe it was something else that had him on edge. Because truthfully, there really was little in him that believed at all in the sacredness of a church. If either of them would have been affected by that it should have been Beth, not him. So why did he feel as if there was just _something_ about this place? Maybe not something ominous or even eerie, but just... something. Something important or weighty, something that needed to be seen somehow?

Or hell, maybe the place really was just fucking creepy and he was letting it get to him more than normal. It wouldn't be surprising if his mind was running a little rampant when it came to ominous or eerie things, considering they'd just come from an abandoned elementary school where they'd found part of a human leg on an old campfire, after all. 

Whatever the reasons behind it, the sensation didn’t vanish as they moved around the back of the church and to the other side. It remained, niggling in the back of his mind and somewhere deep in his gut as he and Beth searched the perimeter of the church for any signs of occupancy. Here like elsewhere, much of what tracks might have been left on the ground seemed to have been erased by the recent rain; if he saw a track or two they were faded, impossible to read let alone to determine how old they were. 

Together they approached the windows along the side of the church. Picking windows, they arched up on their toes to peer through the cloudy glass with eyes shaded against the sun, but the reflection was still such that they could see little on the inside. What Daryl could see seemed fully normal; the vague shape of church pews and an altar, with no signs of any movement. 

It was only when they rounded to the front of the church that they found anything of interest. The first was a sign, hanging from a post out front just beside the simple wooden fence. _St. Sarah’s Church_ it read, and just beneath it: _Episcopal_. “St. Sarah is the patron saint of the Romani people,” Beth remarked in a soft voice, coming around the fence to peer up at the sign. When she caught sight of the look on his face, she clarified, “You’re probably more familiar with the term gypsies.”

As he grunted faintly in agreement he made a slow turn to examine the dirt road they stood on and hummed when he spotted something else. There was a deep groove in the dirt road in front of the church, one that had Daryl crouching down to examine it with interest. Running his fingers over the grooves, which had been washed away somewhat by the rain but not enough that he couldn’t still read them a little, he remarked absently, “Some big kinda vehicle. Maybe a truck or… a bus?” 

With a furrowed brow he pushed off his knees and rose to his feet. As his fingers brushed against the side of his leg to wipe off the dirt that clung to his fingers, his gaze lifted, and what he spotted at the front of the church made his eyes instantly narrow once more.

Stark against the overgrown grass was a large mound of semi-new dirt, matted somewhat by rain and time, but still undoubtedly noticeable, especially thanks to the hand-made wooden cross that stuck out from the top of the mound.

Without a word he and Beth crossed over the worn dirt path and across the grass, their steps slowly as they approached the mound of dirt and its forlorn looking marker. That sensation of dread and eeriness rose within him again, making him feel as if cold, cautious fingers were curling around his stomach and squeezing; gently, but with a doubt noticeably. 

Perhaps that was what sparked him to reach for Beth, or perhaps instead it was the memory of another grave marker; another day when they had stood side-by-side surrounded by graves and reached out for one another. Regardless of just what it was that fueled him, something did. Something caused him to reach out his hand so that the back of it bumped Beth’s not once, but twice. His hand twisted faintly the second time, fingers lightly grazing the inside of her palm until Beth’s hand turned silently to meet his. 

It was only when her fingers curled around his own and he felt the warmth of her touch against his palm that he allowed himself to look down at the marker beneath them. It was far from the first such hand-made marker they had seen. He himself had made more than one, staking them into the ground behind the prison to mark the resting spots of their family. Like those, this one had more than just a plain wooden cross denoting its importance.

Hooked around the middle of the cross where the pieces of wood met where two dangling objects; a cross on a silver chain… and a white priest collar. 

He heard Beth’s sharp intake of breath in the same moment that he felt her fingers curl tighter around his own, and he knew she was remembering the same thing as him; a similar white collar abandoned in the grass beside a rotten, moldy section of charred human flesh perched on top of a campfire. 

“You don’t think-” Her words cut off, because she knew as well as him there was no point in finishing that question. They had no way of knowing if it was a coincidence or not. All they had was a string of objects that may or may not have been connected, that could- or could not- form a tenuous story. 

Unfortunately that didn’t stop that sensation was gripping a little bit tighter in his belly, even as a part of him realized with a rush of relief that nothing about this marker, the collar nor the cross, related in his mind to the family they were searching for. There were no other fresh graves that he could see, no sign that anyone else had been recently buried near this church besides, perhaps, a priest who had once belonged to it.

They stood there in silence for a few seconds longer, hands clasped together, their bodies close enough that Beth’s arm pressed against his own. When they separated, it was in a smooth motion, both of them turning at practically the same time to face the church doors and the steps that lead up to them. Beth’s head turned, tipping back to look up at him, her eyebrow raised in a silent ‘well?’ that was met by his slow nod just a second later. 

The knock on this door sounded far louder than usual as the pounding of Beth’s fist against the wood echoed through the church beyond. He tightened his grip on his crossbow, sighting down the length of it as Beth gripped both handles of the door, stepped back, and drew them quickly open. 

When she stepped aside, nothing waited for them but a silence that was as eerie as the place itself. Hushed and almost expectant, it fell over them as if like a physical weight. Daryl almost thought he could feel it resting at the back of his neck, stirring the hairs there as he stepped into the vaulted church with Beth beside him. 

Empty pews lines the rows on either side of them, and a small aisle stretched down in front of them. Above them, glass lamps hung down from the high white ceiling, dim and dusty with disuse. Without electricity, the place was lit by the light that filtered through the shuttered windows on either side. Still sighting down his bow, Daryl lead the way slowly down the aisle, feeling acutely conscious of the silence that somehow echoed in the place, as if a lack of sound could at all echo.

The aisle led down to a platform, situated beneath an arch in the wall with dark lettering written across it: _He who eats My flesh and drinks My blood has Eternal Life_. As his eyes skimmed the words, Daryl felt the faintest hint of a crawling sensation go down his back; after what they’d found at the elementary school, there was just something about those words that resonated in the wrong way.

Instead he let his gaze drift down again. The little platform was backlit by the sunlight that streamed in through stained glass windows, framed on the right by an old organ, and on the left by an open doorway. The platform itself featured a pulpit covered in purple cloth, and beside it a small table altar with a large cross and two candlesticks. Behind it were two ornate looking chairs, what he thought might be tall lanterns or some other sort of religious paraphenalia, and another open doorway leading to the right. 

Arranged around the entire platform, stark and incongruous against the holy panorama, Daryl’s eyes picked out the shadowy shapes of cans, empty and lying in a long line in front of the ornate chairs. As far as he could see, it was perhaps the only sign that anyone had been here. There was nothing to be found within the pews besides prayer books tucked into the shelves in front of each seat. He saw no bodies, not even any signs of blood, let alone any other possessions or signs- in the church itself, at least- that anyone had recently taken up residence here.

Not that it meant anything, anyway. He and Beth rarely left much of a sign behind when they left a place, after all. Anyone else who had been here- if in fact people _had_ been here, besides the unfortunate priest- might have cleaned up the same as they would have. 

As Daryl stood in front of the platform with Beth beside him, his eyes scanned the gloom of the church, wondering why he couldn’t seem to rid himself of that prickling sensation at the back of his neck, or the niggling feeling tugging low in his belly. His curious gaze skimmed across the stain glass windows at the back to the plain glass windows all around, and darted over the religious paintings hanging on the walls. Two signs, one to the left of the platform and one to the right by the organ pipes, featured matching lettering; what he thought might be a list of verses. 

He figured Beth was probably more suited to understanding just what “ROM 6.4” and the other notations referred to, and frankly, he didn’t really care much. He was too busy trying to scan every inch of the place and figure out just what it was that made him feel like he was missing something important. 

In the end though, it was Beth who found the answer. Beth who stepped hesitantly up the small platform to look down at the table altar. Beth whose gaze drifted down from the decorative cross to the thick piece paper, folded in front of it, and Beth who called out to him, low and urgent, “ _Daryl_. Come look at this!” 

And it was Beth this time who reached out for his hand, lacing her fingers through his own as they stood side-by-side, peering down at the folded paper- a map, he realized after a second- and read the words scrawled across it in black marker:

_You’re always gonna be family._  
_Come to Washington._  
_The new world’s gonna need you, Carol_.  
_And so do we._

_-Rick_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I debated just how much to put into the notes down here, because I didn't want to take away from the GASP moment of the cliffhanger ending, but since a lot of this just isn't ever going to get explained in the story, I want to write it out. (By "isn't going to get explained", I mean because at no point is anyone in the story itself going to say, well, because Daryl wasn't here, this happened instead of this, lol.) So here are some notes:
> 
> 1) The concept of the two types of marks and where they lead comes from the marks in the show itself (there are two distinctive ones, just like in this fic) and [this fan theory/explanation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oycLo7MjE44). Basically, they used different marks for different paths.
> 
> 2) **Butterfly Effects:** Because Daryl wasn't with the group in Terminus, there was no crossbow sitting among the supplies for Carol to snatch up when she came to try and rescue them. Instead, she grabbed Michonne's recognizable katana instead. Armed with her blade and feeling more confident, it was Michonne who went with Rick, Gabriel, et. al, to the church food bank place, leaving Bob behind in her place to help watch over Carl and Judith. Since Bob wasn't at the food bank, he was never bitten, and when the group got back to the church he wasn't depressed and feeling the need to sit outside moping while on watch. Instead it was Father Gabriel, fixated on what he'd seen in the food bank with the walker-version of the woman he'd loved, who was outside of the church when the Termites found him. It was Gabriel who was kidnapped, Gabriel whose leg was cut off and eaten, and Gabriel who was returned as a warning. Gabriel died that evening, and was buried in front of his church. Simultaneously, without Daryl there to talk her down, Carol loaded up a nearby car with supplies and left the group behind, leaving only a note behind on the front steps of the church as a goodbye. With only Gabriel dead (not someone they felt a particular need to avenge), and Carol having left of her own accord (thus leaving no one for them to wait for or chase after), the entire family left the church for DC without staying to fight the Termites... but left behind a map and a note for Carol, just in case she changed her mind.
> 
> DUN DUN DUNNNNNNN. I've been looking forward to this chapter and reveal/twist of the plot for weeks tbh, so I hope everyone enjoyed it and is as excited as I am. Comments are always appreciated, but especially for this chapter and it's plot twisting! Thanks as always for reading.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they strive to understand the meaning of the words written on the map they found inside the church, Beth and Daryl also have to make a decision about what to do next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love this chapter, and I hope you all love it as much as I do. I don't name the chapters of Chasing Cars and I never have, but if I did I think this chapter would be called "Sanctuary". Soundtrack for this chapter (especially the second half) is [Boom Clap](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X6f1yACIoNY) as covered by Lennon and Maisy. Enjoy!
> 
> (Oh, and also I hope you don't hate me too much for where I chose to end this chapter. Sorry! It was what worked best!)

_You’re always gonna be family._  
 _Come to Washington._  
 _The new world’s gonna need you, Carol._  
 _And so do we._

_-Rick_

Daryl’s eyes scanned over the words again and again, trying to get a grip on the complex series of emotions that felt like they were battering him from the inside out. 

They were alive. He could start with those three words. _They were alive_. Rick and Carol… maybe even others judging by the ‘we’ on that last line. He had doubted it for so long despite the tiny spark of hope Beth had lit within him all those weeks ago. Despite the fact that she had cut to the heart of him to expose his fear and chased some of it away, just enough to allow that little spark to flare within him; the same spark that had kindled again just briefly in the wake of the katana-sliced bodies they’d found by the train tracks. 

If it had settled in the time since as reality set in, then it was kindling within him all over again now at the sight of this note. 

Rick and Carol, alive. The two people who were essentially his brother and sister-- perhaps not by blood, but in all the ways that truly mattered. The two people he had been the most afraid for down in the deepest recesses of his heart, where he kept all the fear he tried so hard not to acknowledge. Fear for Rick, last seen in the middle of that battlefield with the Governor. Fear for Carol, lost and banished before then, sent away by Rick to survive all on her own. 

He had known in his gut how strong they were. He had known that each of them was more than capable of survival, and yet the fear had still been there, dark and painful and aching in a place he had done his best not to face, until Beth had forced him to look right at it. Confronting it hadn’t truly banished that fear, and neither had that tiny spark of hope. But now...

Now he knew they were _alive_. Or they had been, sometime recently. Despite the ambiguity of the time period, it was still more than enough to have that flame of hope crackling low within him, and he knew from the way Beth’s fingers were curling tightly in his own that she was feeling the same. That she was _thinking_ the same as he had. 

_They were alive_.

Hand in hand they clung to one another, staring down at that map, both of them reading the words over and over as if they couldn’t quite believe they were real. 

_Carol._  
_Rick._  
_Alive, alive, alive._

It was only somewhere around his fifth or sixth time reading it that his gaze finally strayed away from the black lettering to the other marks on the map. To the red line, drawn up through the eastern coast from Georgia and into Virginia.

It was then, as he traced that path etched across the map with his gaze, that he felt Beth’s hand unexpectedly go limp within his own. Before he could do more than register it, her voice broke into the hushed silence, low with shock and disbelief as she uttered, “They left us.” 

Soft though they were, Beth’s words seemed to smash through the haze in his mind, breaking through that endless repeating cycle of _Rick_ and _Carol_ and _alive, alive, alive_. As he slowly tore his gaze from the scribbled words on the page, he realized there was more than just astonishment in her voice. There was something else layered beneath it, something… tight and tense and taut, something like anger and hurt and confusion all bundled up together.

“What?”

Blinking her big blue eyes, Beth glanced up from the map towards him instead. Holding his gaze, she repeated again in that same low, tense voice, “They _left_ us, Daryl. Rick, and whoever else-” She turned back to the map, eyes widening and her voice growing more and more sharply pitched as she went on in disbelief, “I can’t… I can’t believe they… they _left_ us.” He watched her swallow hard, muscles bunching and releasing in her throat before she continued, “I mean, Rick… he couldn’t have been alone. He says _we_ , right? So someone was with him. Michonne, probably, ‘cause... ‘cause remember those bodies we found by the railroad tracks? You said it was someone with a katana and someone else with a gun. So he’s at least got Michonne with him, right? And if they went through Terminus, well, that’s where…” 

Her words had been coming quicker, sharper, as if her voice was rising right alongside her emotions, but then she swallowed hard, licking her dry lips before going on in a near-whisper instead, “ _Maggie_. That’s where Maggie was going, looking for Glenn. So… so they must have met up. Maybe even more of them... more of our- our family. They… they found each other and… and they… they _left_.”

“Beth-”

“No, Daryl. Think about it.” When she turned to him this time, the look of pain in her eyes wrenched at something within his chest. It curled fingers in deep, like talons or hooks that curved right into the throbbing flesh of his heart and twisted in tightly. His heart only ached more at the plaintive sound of her voice as she kept whispering, “They left. They took whoever they had with them, and they just left. Without even trying to find us, without even thinking-”

The words, when they finally came to his lips, were halting and unsure. “Beth, you don’t know that.” Daryl’s brow creased with worry, more for her than anything else. He hated the sight of her all worked up like this, the sight of her _hurting_ in any way. Unlike a physical threat though, he couldn’t fight with his hands to defend her from this, couldn’t pummel it into submission or even tear it all down. All he could do was try his awkward, fumbling best to find the right words to do what his hands couldn’t. To help her. 

So he tried; tried to make his voice firmer, tried to say the right things. “You know how hard it would have been for them to find us, even if they did go looking?”

“We found _them_ , didn’t we?” She had a point there, but then again, they’d had big signs to follow. From the signs, to the smoke at Terminus, and the markings left on the trees; the path for them had been far easier to follow. Before he could point that out though, Beth reached for the map on the altar, picking it up and clutching it tightly in her hand. “And look at this.” She shook it up at him. “ _Carol_. They left a note for her, but didn’t even bother leaving a note for us, not even just in case.” The pupils of her eyes seemed to widen, to darken her blue eyes as her expression faltered even more and she breathed out, “Just like… just like _Maggie_ didn’t bother to leave a message for me, back on those train tracks.”

And oh, yes, there it was. There was the real sore spot that Beth was carrying around inside, the dark and painful inner wound that this scribbled messaged had wormed into and was now rooting around unheedingly in.

“Beth…”

Pitched high from the pain within her, Beth’s sharp voice echoed faintly across the vaulted ceilings of the church. “I mean, I understand them forgetting _me_. I get them not thinking to come after me, not thinking I might be out there still. But you? How could they not think you’d survive? How could they not have waited for you, or gone looking for you, or left a _message_ for you, Daryl?” 

That, finally, was too much for him to just passively listen to. He had been willing to wait for her to have her say, to let the painful words spill out of her, but he couldn’t sit there and bear the sound of her demeaning herself like that. With firm hands Daryl reached out, tugging the map from her grasp and setting it down before gently cupping the sides of her arms instead. He waited like that, fingers curled around her arms until she was looking up at him. He waited until those big blue eyes met his own, allowing him to see the depth of exactly what she was feeling; the pain that was darkening her eyes, etching lines into her forehead, and turning down the corners of her lips. 

Only then did he murmur in response, “ _You_ ain’t worth being left behind, neither.” In comparison to how much she had been allowing to spill out of her, his actual reply was brief. But heavy in every single one of those eight words was the weight of just how much he meant that; a firm honesty that wasn’t just laced through his words but warm in his eyes as he looked down at her, trying to make her understand. “You ain’t ever worth bein’ left behind. You hear me? And I ain’t… I ain’t gonna stand for you thinkin’ that, let alone sayin’ it.” 

His fingers curled a little bit tighter against her arms, as if to help bring home the firmness of his words. But the true emotion was in his eyes as they held hers. He’d never been one for words, but that hadn’t mattered when it came to Beth, because she seemed to be able to just look at him and _see_. So he held her gaze now, hoping she could see the truth of it in his eyes, hoping she could see the honesty with which he was trying to reassure her.

After a moment he felt her tremble faintly beneath his hands. The tension within her loosened, not with relief but with the release of emotion as she took a step forward to lean limply against him and murmured in a low voice verging perilously close to a whimper, “I just… all this time I wanted so badly for them to alive. I wanted to _find_ them. I just never expected to find out that they’d not been trying to do the same thing. Even after Maggie...”

He hesitated for only a moment as she leaned into him to press her face against his chest. Just one moment, and then instinct took over. His hands shifted, sliding down her arms to her elbows and then carefully to her back, where his broad palms spread out across that delicate curve to hold her close to him. “I know,” he murmured, looking down for one moment at the crown of her blonde head before he gently rested his chin on top of it. “Ain’t like I expected that, either.” 

When she drew in a faintly shuddering little breath, Daryl found himself grunting out reflexively, “Not that we can really say they ain’t looked for us. We don’t know…” 

His own words belied what he was truly feeling though. They were a mask, a front to be put up over the sinking sensation in his gut as other suspicions wormed through his mind. But Beth- sweet, understanding Beth- was as perceptive as always. “You’re right,” she murmured, shifting against him to free her hands from where they had been tucked between their bodies so she could brush them around to his back instead. As he felt her small, slender hands press just beneath the wings on his back, he heard her murmur, “I want to believe you’re right, Daryl. That they tried, that they waited, maybe. That they wanted us to be alive, but they didn’t have a choice… or didn’t have a good choice, anyway.”

Just a moment ago he had been the one comforting her and now the tables had turned. It didn’t feel like a sharp turn, but something so smooth and natural and easy that it almost seemed as if they had simply rounded an even lap to the other side of a circle, rather than made some drastic flip. It felt just as right to comfort her, even if he struggled to find the words, as it did to be comforted in return.

It felt equally as right to just stand there in front of the altar, stock still in the square of light patterned by the colors of the stain glass window, holding each other close and breathing until the rise and fall of their lungs found the same pattern. 

He didn’t know just how long it was that they stood there. It could have been hours, though some distant and logical part of his mind judged the lack of movement from the square of light and thought it had only been five minutes at most. 

However long it had been, it was her voice that broke the silence to say, softly and surely, “At least we’ve still got each other, right?” 

His head tilted down so that his nose grazed the soft strands of her hair, and he breathed in deep before unhesitatingly murmuring on the exhale, “Of course. That ain’t ever gonna change.”

There was so much more they needed to discuss, all of it tied up in the red lined path marked on that map. Daryl knew that. So despite his desire to just stay there holding her, his hands spanning her back and hers pressed right beneath his wings (as if the feathers might be sprouting from her touch instead of his back), after a moment he rested his lips lightly against the crown of her head and then drew back to look down at her. 

“C’mon,” he murmured gruffly, rubbing a hand lightly in a circle over her back. “Let’s finish checking this place out and maybe lock it down for the night. Then… then we can figure out what comes next.”

* * *

It didn’t take them too long to explore the rest of the small church, combing through the rooms off the main space. Rather than split up they stayed together, moving side-by-side through small rooms, examining religious artwork on the wall, and rummaging with mild interest through the papers on the desk in the office.

In the end there was little of interest though; or rather, neither of them found a single thing related to the family that they knew had stayed here what he could only guess was a week or two ago. If there was a hint of disappointment in either of their expressions, it was a thing briefly shared in the meeting of their gaze, in a faint quirk of Beth’s lips and a slight shrug of Daryl’s shoulder… and then they moved forward. Because that was what they did. They kept moving, kept pushing forward. They focused on their routines, allowing the busyness to push certain worried thoughts from their minds-- for now, at least. 

With the interior of the church swept and secured they moved to the outside, doing one more walk around the place and ensuring all the doors were firmly shut and locked and there were no walkers or anything else worrisome in sight. The strings of cans that Beth kept within her bag was hung up in front of the church, just in case, and only then did they retreat within, shutting and barring the heavy double doors and officially claiming the sanctuary of the church for the night.

“It’s kind of fitting, in a way.” Beth must have caught the turn of Daryl’s head from the corner of her eyes, because as his gaze settled on her she went on, “Taking sanctuary in a Church. That used to be an official thing, claiming sanctuary in a church against the law, or to find safe harbor.”

“Think I’ve seen it in a movie before,” Daryl grunted, moving past her down the aisle of the church. He was pretty sure he’d seen some candles back in the office that they could light; soon the sunlight filtering through the windows would fade and the church would darken. He wouldn’t advise lighting too many, not wanting the glow from within to alert people outside to their presence, but they needed _some_ light to navigate by.

Beth followed after him, quiet for a few moments until they reached the office and he bent down to rummage through the cabinet and fetch out some candles. As he pulled free a couple white candles in glass jars, he heard her muse behind him, “I wonder if that’s what this place was, too them. Our family, I mean. Was it sanctuary? Did they come here right after whatever it was that happened at Terminus?”

Her questions were unanswerable, or at least unanswerable by anything other than more questions. Questions he could feel pricking at the back of his mind and rising just to the tip of his tongue. Questions like: What did happen at Terminus? What were they running from? Was it the same people who had made the marks on the trees? The same people who had killed the priest, who had cut off his leg and grilled it at a campfire in front of an elementary school? And those people, if they had been from Terminus, if they had left those marks and killed that man… where were they now?

When Daryl looked at Beth, he saw those same questions deep in her eyes, reflected in the black of her pupils and the blue of her irises as she held his gaze and gave a soft sigh. They both knew there was no way to answer those questions and yet, they couldn’t help but wonder.

“Maybe,” was what Daryl said, finally, standing up with the candles in his hands and offering one to her. “I reckon maybe they did. Ain’t no way to know, but… it makes sense.” 

Beth bit her lip, but as she curled her fingers around the cool glass that encased the candle, she gave a slight nod. When he turned to lead the way out of the office she followed, saying as she walked, “I think they did. I think they left Terminus and found there way here, and it was like… a sanctuary, for them.” As they came out the office door Daryl hesitated, looking at the altar for a moment before ignoring it to pass down to the aisle between the pews. It was as good a place as any to sit and talk, for now. The sun was still setting and they could light the candles without fear of being spotted through the windows. Later, after it was really dark maybe, they’d go into one of those other rooms to hole up safely for tonight. But for now…

For now he settled in the middle of the aisle, dropping his bag and then following suit to sit on the hard floor. Without hesitating Beth moved right with him, sitting down on the floor with her back to the side of the pew right next to his. Though they were not pressed side by side as they sometimes were these days, when Beth stretched her legs out she did it at a slight angle, just enough so that her foot brushed his leg for a moment as she settled. 

“I think whoever left those marks was from Terminus, too. Maybe they- our people- were trying to escape… but they followed?” 

Daryl nodded at her guesswork, knowing it would only ever be that unless they somehow did catch up to their family and find out the real story. It was a good guess, though, pieced together from what they’d found at Terminus, and the path they’d followed, and the note. 

_The note_. That was what truly lingered in his mind, though. The note, and what to do about it. He could see it not only in her gaze, but in the turn of her head, the way sometimes she’d glance back in the direction of that altar and the folded map they’d left there. 

_Rick._  
_Carol._  
_A map, and a route outlined in red._  
_Alive, alive, alive._

The words were right there on the tip of his tongue, a _should we_ and _do you think_ hovering right there at the edge. If a thought could have feet (an odd mental image), it would have it’s toes curled over the rim of a cliff; hesitating, waiting for the push of action. Forwards to the fall, or back, instead?

In the end it was Beth who took the leap; Beth, who like always seemed unafraid to ask the hard questions or pull reality out of the shadows and into the light. “So what do we do?” She asked, her face golden in the glow from the candle she had lit and perched on the floor beside her. “Do we go after them? Do we follow their map?” 

In the flickering candlelight, he studied her face. It wasn’t the first time he’d peered at her like this, when she was all lit up in the glow of a candle, or a fire. Far from it. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it in silence either. 

Daryl didn’t think he would ever forget that one night, and how could he? How could he forget it when everything about it was exactly why they were here today? Why they were _who_ they were, today. All because of that night; not only her questioning words- _what changed your mind?_ \- but what had followed, too. The near loss, the panic, _I’m not gonna leave you_ and _Beth! Beth!_.

She had changed, since then. They both had, of course, in so many ways. Right now he studied those changes; the visible ones, anyway. Her face looked different in the candlelight now; thinner, but not in an unhealthy way. Leaner, stronger, marked by the faded-bruise and the scar on her cheek, but also… warmer. The look in her eyes was without a doubt warmer, and there was a glow to her that he knew didn’t come from the candle’s flickering flame. He didn’t know if he could say just where it came from, or maybe he was simply too cautious. Maybe he didn’t dare wonder, let alone claim, that the warm glow he saw on her face matched the warmth he felt inside, and that it came from the same place. From the two of them together, from the weight of her in his arms standing by the altar earlier, from the tangle of her legs in his own as they’d slept last night, from the warmth of her lips against his. From _them_. 

He looked at her, and he drank her in. Every warm, shining inch of her. She looked right back at him, holding his gaze without breaking it… and neither of them needed to say a word. He could see the promise in her eyes and knew that it was right there mirrored in his own: _Me and you_ and _the two of us_ and _that’s what matters_ and maybe even _ain’t nobody else that matters like this, nobody, nobody, nobody_. 

Daryl didn’t have to say anything out loud. He knew she could see the promise in his eyes the way he could see it in hers. But still, he found himself murmuring lowly, “I think we do what’s best… for us. You an’ me.” 

He was gratified when she not only nodded in response but scooted closer. He shifted instantly to make room, so that both of them could rest half their backs against the side of the pew behind them and, more importantly, Beth could lean her side against his. 

The silence extended around them for a few beats of his heart, a few rise-and-falls of his lungs, and then she said softly, “I think maybe we should follow them… eventually.” 

That had him turning curiously towards her, tilting his head down as he raised an eyebrow. 

“I mean… in the end, it’s not like we have anything else to do. We could stay here, of course. We could find somewhere else to stay, somewhere else to hole up and… and make ours. Or we could keep moving. But I think… no matter what we do, we’ll always wonder where they are, and if we could find them. So maybe we should try.”

“Eventually?”

“Yeah.” Beth gave a tiny smile up at him. “Because I was thinking… you know, it wouldn’t be smart to just go after them on foot. Following a vague outline on a map, without any other plan. And you and me, we’re pretty smart.”

He chuckled, the unexpected sound rumbling in his chest. “Oh yeah, are we?”

“Of course!” The little smile turned up in a second, forming a bright grin that lit up her whole face. “I mean, you’re the founder of Dixon University after all, and I like to think I’m it’s star student, so we must both be pretty smart.”

Daryl might have snorted at that, but Beth’s little soft giggle also stirred something within him. It had that warm, fluttering feeling rising up inside him again; a sensation seemed to strain within him, to fill every inch of the confines of his heart and then push outward, as if it could expand through his ribs to warm his whole body. 

It wasn’t the only thing that happened when she smiled at him, or when she laughed, or when she did whatever it was that made him feel that warmth. There was something else that strained, too, something physical rather than emotional, something that strained _against_ , rather than within. It was something that made his pants feel a little bit tighter, made him shift in place and try in vain to adjust himself, without drawing attention to it. Not that he thought she would judge, or even be uncomfortable with it. In fact he was pretty sure she would be the opposite of uncomfortable with it, which right now, well… just made him shift in place even more and do his best not to think about it. 

He focused on her, instead. On her smile and the way she leaned into him, and how warm she was against him. He focused on her voice as her giggles trailed away and she went on more seriously, “Anyway… it wouldn’t be smart, just to try and go after them. To walk all that way, without knowing what we might find.” 

The way she spoke, hesitating over the words… it meant something, he knew that. It wasn’t an unsure hesitancy, but rather a _weightiness_. As if she was holding something back, not out of fear but more to tease him, to draw it out and make him ask. And because she was Beth and he was Daryl, and she could hook in her pretty little fingers and draw _anything_ out of him, he let himself do just that. “So you gonna spit out whatever idea y’ got in mind, Greene? Or you gonna make me get it outta you, somehow.”

“Oh!” The smile that crossed her lips- playful, mischievous, and warm- made that heat flutter slow in his belly, simmering like a pot on a flame and slowly but surely buildin’ towards a boil as she went on, “Well I was just gonna tell you, but now I’m wondering just what you’d do to pull it out of me, _Mr. Dixon_.” 

A stray curl of hair had fallen across her cheek and he didn’t know what was more temptin’ to him right now; the urge to reach out and brush that away, or the urge to tease her or, lord, the urge to trace the lines of that smile with the pads of his fingers and then his lips, until he found out if it were possible to _taste_ a smile like that.

(He thought if it were, it would taste sweet like her; sweet like strawberries or maybe cherries, or maybe a juicy Georgia peach with just a hint of tang to it.) 

In the end he did reach out, the rough pads of his fingers brushing across the soft curve of her cheek, pushing back that curl of hair even as he breathed out her name, low and gravelly with an implicit warning that was far from the threatening growl he would have given anyone else. “ _Beth_...”

“You know that’s not exactly motivating me…” Her voice was light and teasing, but with a husky quality to it that he couldn’t ignore, and as he watched her she tilted her head against his touch like a cat, butting her cheek up against the palm of his hand. For a moment they stayed there like that, his worn palm cupped to her cheek, fitting perfectly to the curve of it. He just watched her, studying the flutter of her eyelashes and the way they dusted her cheeks for a moment before she exhaled a soft sigh and let them open, so she could meet his eyes.

“I think what we need is transportation. And not just… not just whatever random car we manage to find that’ll probably break down or run out of gas eventually anyway.” Beth hesitated and there it was again, that weightiness but also a spark, bright in her eyes. Seeing that excitement filled him unexpectedly with anticipation, but even still he never could have guessed what would come from her lips next. “I think we should go back and get your bike. Not Merle’s bike, at the prison. _Your_ bike.” 

“My-” Thrown, he stammered out, “ _My_ bike?”

“Yours.” She nodded and this time the smile that crossed her lips was softer, sweeter, more familiar. “You told me about it, remember? Back at the old Mill. You told me you had to leave it behind, when things went to crap and I said maybe we could go back and get it, and you said _maybe_. Maybe, after we checked out the fire, and Terminus.” She lifted her hands palm up as if to say: _And see? We did that, and now here we are._

And with that gesture, Beth finished, “So why don’t we do that, then? Why don’t we go back and get your bike, and gather more supplies along the way, and _then_ follow that map and try to find our family.” She trailed off into a silence that he didn’t fill, until the seconds stretched on and finally she murmured in a near-whisper, hesitant and hopeful, “So what do you think, Daryl?”

He thought it was ridiculous. He thought it was silly, pointless, completely random... he thought they could find any old car or bike and it would serve the same purpose, and yet…

And yet he didn’t really think it was any of those things. And yet, as he watched her watching him with those big, cornflower blue eyes, as he lifted his hands again to drag the roughened tips of his fingers over the delicate line of her jaw, he found himself replying simply, “Okay.”

She laughed again, a little breathy giggle that was tight with nervousness and yet instantly seemed to release the coiled tension within her, causing her to exhale in a breathy voice, “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Daryl murmured simply, a hint of a smile quirking up at the corner of his lips. “Okay. We’ll do it. We’ll go back, an’ find my bike… and then find our family, if we can.” 

And since she was smiling up at him bright as the sun, he didn’t tell her that right now, sitting here in the hush of the church and the flickering light of the candles with her, he felt like he was already with his family. Like maybe now she was all he really did need. Maybe she had been, for a long time now. 

He didn’t tell her any of that, but he did move. He did lean in, until the fingers on her cheek slid back to tangle into her hair, and his lips grazed her own. He’d only meant for it to be a soft kiss, but then she leaned into it too, parting her lips against his so that the kiss deepened and he could taste her; soft and sweet as a warm peach… but better. So much better. Because she didn’t just taste like a sweet peach; she tasted like _Beth_. And when she pulled back from the kiss, it was with a soft and breathy little laugh that had his own lips curving into a slight smile in response, even as he asked, “What?”

“Sorry. I just couldn’t help thinking about the fact that you’re kissin’ me in a _church_.” 

With a smirk and a chuckle, he replied, “Bet you were a good church-goin’ girl, weren’t you?” 

“Mhm.” But a smirk tugged at her lips, too, and he watched as she leaned up to brush her lips slowly over his again and murmur against the seam of his lips, “Maybe not so much anymore.” 

The sound of her saying _that_ , all husky and low, made _him_ wanna just, well… take the Lord’s name in vain. Or something. Something else, something so much _more_ than just taking the Lord’s name in vain.

Before he could say anything- or even kiss her again- she surprised him by climbing slowly to her feet, curling her fingers around the candle and bringing it with her as she rose. 

Sitting up a bit with one hand propped on his knee, he looked up at her through the lanky fringe of his hair and asked in an unexpectedly rough voice, “Where you goin’, Greene?” 

“Well I was just thinking,” she murmured, cupping the candle in her hands so that the glow of it played across her face. A stray thought whispered through his mind, soft as a feather: _As if she needed anything to make her look more like an angel_. With a slow smile, Beth went on, “The sun is going down, and it might be safer in one of the back rooms. And... “ The faintest hint of a flush stained the apples of her cheek as she turned half-away, and then glanced right back, her hair swaying with the movement and the flame of the candle gutting for a second before it caught and flared bright again, bright as her sweet smile as she finished, “And it’s more… private.”

There was just a few seconds where her gaze drifted; up over the pews and their bibles, over the podium and the altar, and the cross. 

_Bet you were a good, church-goin’ girl, weren’t you?  
Maybe not so much, anymore._

He was climbing to his feet even as the words echoed in his mind, easily scooping up his bag and bow and the spare candle as Beth began to walk down the aisle. The faint sway of her hips beckoned him and there it was again, that stirring, straining, tightening. He clenched his jaw and willed it down, willed it steady, even as the warmth in his chest spilled over to fill every inch of him as if it were pulsing right along with his heart to the rhythm of her name: _Beth, Beth, Beth_.

Lord, she is gonna be the end of me.

At the end of the aisle stopped and turned to look over her shoulder and for a moment he was struck by the flicker of golden light across her jaw. She glowed like an angel, and she didn’t even need wings. How could his end come at the hands of an angel? If it did, he figured it would be the sweetest end there ever was. 

Her blue eyes met his and her smiling lips parted to breathe out softly, “Come with me?”

He was already on his feet, and all it took was one look for her to pull him forward. As if he would have done anything else but follow her. As if he _could_ do anything else, as if he’d _want_ to do anything else but follow her. Anywhere. Everywhere. To the end of the world.

But right now, just to a small room in the back of a church, where he could hold her in his arms and taste the sweetness of her on his lips. The closest he’d ever known to tasting, touching, feeling the warmth of heaven. 

Or maybe not heaven, but something else. _Sanctuary_. In her arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't be too mad about that ending. If it helps, I am currently planning to have the next chapter pick up right after that end scene. Probably. Maybe. If not, I will compensate accordingly.
> 
> Anyway, as always I live for your comments and I love them all. Thank you so much for reading this chapter and continuing to read Chasing Cars! It's been a busy couple weeks for me but I will try to update asap.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spending the night in a church provides the perfect space for reflection... but it also provides Beth and Daryl with some time for things that are decidedly not church-like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the rating change to Mature! While this chapter isn't fully up there, it's definitely more adult in certain nsfw regards than previous chapters, and I decided it was finally time to make the switch. I hope you all enjoy this... the first half especially is brought to you by me listening to "Take Me to Church" way too many times on repeat.

When they had been out in the chapel of the church, the air felt been hushed and almost reverent. It had been a room of echoes and coldness and lingering remnants of once-holiness whispering around them. The same didn’t apply, however, to the small room off to the back of it. Far from reverent or solemn in any way, this room felt so much… _warmer_. Although to be fair, Daryl thought that might have had something to do with Beth lying beneath him, her warm body arching faintly up against his own as her hands curled lightly at his back.

If there was reverence here, it was no longer in the air. Maybe it was in his touch instead, because certainly the glide of his hand up the curve of her hip was reverent in its own way. He might never have prayed in a church, but when his fingers grazed the line of skin exposed by the hem of her shirt, he felt like uttering the lord’s name over and over again. He felt like worshipping her-- all of her, or perhaps even just that single perfect inch of skin, soft and warm beneath the worn pads of his fingers. 

This kiss felt different to him. They had kissed before, of course. They had kissed almost just like this, too, laying on the floor of the cabin, pressed close together and kissing until they were breathless. But this felt different, somehow. It felt more intimate, it felt as if it had more _weight_ to it. He couldn’t explain why, and that inability to find the right words wasn’t just because kissing her made everything in his mind go fuzzy-- though it did certainly scramble his thoughts and his senses until everything was a heated haze, a pulsing throbbing rhythm of _Beth, Beth, Beth_ and nothing more, nothing but her and the taste of her and the warmth of her body beneath his own.

Daryl also couldn’t explain the feeling because it was the sort of thing that words couldn’t encompass. There was no way to get it across like that- in words, or syllables, or anything else that could be uttered out loud- because it was too big. It was too much. It- this, what he felt between them as he kissed her- was too deeply rooted within him, like a vine that had sunk down roots in his heart and curled tendrils up his ribs to spread through every inch of him with leaves that unfurled as if she were the sun. It just _was_.

So rather than try and place it, rather than try and name it or figure out what it was that made him feel the way he did… Daryl just _felt_ it. He felt the heat of it, the strength of it, the important weight of it all around him. He felt her warmth, felt the curve of her hip beneath his hand and the gently slide of her tongue against his lower lip. He felt _her_. He felt them.

Beneath him, Beth’s lips parted against his own and her tongue slipped briefly into his mouth. The touch of just the tip of her tongue to his own was electric, sending heat jolting through him right to his core and making him groan against her lips even as she deepened the kiss to tease her tongue against his more. Caught up in the moment his hand shifted instinctively, slipping up under her shirt to graze slowly over the flat of her stomach. He had a moment to just _feel_ her, to relish her skin so soft and smooth against the rough palm of his hand, so warm, so _perfect_. He had just that moment before reality caught up to him and he froze in place.

It was there again for just a moment, that insidious voice worming at the back of his mind. These days it was often so much quieter but sometimes it still found it’s way to the surface. It was a whisper of a voice that told him this was wrong, that he had no right to this. Beth was too good; an angel with a halo of sunlight who had no wings but could nonetheless make something within him flutter. She was soft, sweet, perfect, and he was…. well. He was not. He was a Dixon. 

In fact he wasn’t just any Dixon but _Daryl_ Dixon, and the truth was he’d never done anything like this before. He’d never kissed a girl like he couldn’t get enough of the taste of her, never lay pressed on top of her so the curves of her body fitted against his own, and he’d certainly never touched skin so soft that it was like porcelain; like those pretty glass things you saw in shops that a guy like him ain’t never gone near because one wrong move of his big, brutish body would shatter them. She was like that. She was soft and gentle, and his big, rough hands were undeserving of her. 

Those words of doubt whispered through his mind, but they were only given a moment to darken his thoughts. Before they could put down roots within him, Beth pulled back from their kiss to look up at him, and the smile that curved up her kiss-swollen lips brought with it a sweet sunshine that instantly banished almost every hint of that doubtful darkness. “Daryl,” she whispered, arching faintly up beneath him to press her stomach more firmly against his hand. “It’s okay. I want you to touch me.”

There was a look in her eyes that was warm and welcoming, but with a hint of something else, too. Need. Need for _him_ ; for his hands, his touch, his acceptance of this- whatever it was, because it was as unnameable as it was indescribable- without doubt or hesitation. In her eyes he saw the kind of need that he thought might have brought a ‘please’ to her lips if he’d paused any longer. He didn’t, not just because he had no desire to make her plead with him, but because he wanted it too. He wanted to touch her, and he wanted it even more now that she was there, smiling beneath him and telling him she wanted his hands on her skin. How could he tell her no? How could he even think to want to?

It was an impossibility.

So he didn’t. Instead, he drew in a slow breath and then, with his eyes holding hers, he let his hand brush up over the flat of her stomach once more. His fingers teased over the dip of her navel and grazed up, the heft of his wrist and hand dragging her shirt up with his touch as he moved, so that he knew if he looked down he would see her stomach exposed in a perfect display of pale, soft, perfect flesh.

But he couldn’t pull his gaze away from hers, and he didn’t to. The depth of emotion in her big blue eyes was both too much and not enough at the same time. It very nearly overwhelmed him to see everything he was feeling reflecting in her gaze and yet at the same time, it was her eyes that anchored him, that held him here with her, that stopped the doubt from creeping in and forcing him to draw away. 

It was a push/pull like everything was between them, like she herself seemed to manage to push him to new levels and yet guide him and anchor him and make him feel reassured all at the same time.

So as her breath hitched to the same rhythm of his own and her soft sigh made him groan low in his throat, he let his hand drift slowly up, bringing her shirt with it until the tips of his fingers grazed something new. Fabric, cupping the soft, warm curve of the underside of her breasts. At that first touch Daryl stilled again, giving a little shudder that was mirrored by her faint shiver beneath him as he realized where his hand was, how _close_ he was.

This time, he didn’t let the doubt creep in. Didn’t let it darken his eyes, let alone make him pull back. His hesitation wasn’t out of worry that he shouldn’t do this, but out of concern that she wanted him to. He needed to know that she wanted him to keep going, because touching her was only good if she wanted it as badly as he did. 

He leaned down slowly, the question in his eyes as he hovered his lips a scant inch away from hers and waited, and her reply, when it came, was just as simple; with no hesitancy at all. She leaned up to meet his lips in a soft kiss, deepening it with a curve of her back that gently but purposefully pressed the underside of her breast against his waiting hand.

With an invitation like that, it was no wonder he found himself growling soft and low against her lips in response. As Beth’s nose lightly nudged his and her lips parted to exhale a sigh against his mouth, Daryl let his hand brush slowly up. His fingers grazed across the worn fabric of her bra, until his hand shifted and he felt the curve of her breast press to the palm of his hand. He almost growled again; would have, except Beth chose that moment to arch up beneath him with a soft, breathy moan that sent a shudder right through him, flushed him with heat and made him acutely aware of the sudden tightness of his pants. Then, really, all he could do was close the gap between them again and press his lips to hers in another kiss. 

At the kiss deepened, his hand cupped her pert little breast and gently squeezed. He was sure he could feel her pulse thrumming against the palm of his hand, but it was hard to tell when his own heartbeat was echoing in his ears and pulsing through every inch of him-- including where he was once again straining at the fly of his pants. He was acutely aware of it, couldn’t help but be despite his desire to focus solely on her. Even as he caressed her, allowed himself to _feel_ her, so soft and perfect in his hand, Daryl shifted above her to try and keep his hips from pressing down into her.

But Beth wasn’t having any of that. Or rather, she simply didn’t seem to think they needed to keep apart, that they needed to keep any space between them; literally, or perhaps figuratively, too. Because as she reached up to brush her hand down his back and gently tugged his body closer to his, the nearness he felt wasn’t just physical. There was that, of course, that closeness in the way he leaned down into her and felt her leg slot between his, felt her breast filling his hand as her hips pressed up so that his hard cock was pinned against her warm thigh. But there was also the nearness that he felt inside, the _closeness_ to her, this woman with whom he felt no shame, no embarrassment, no doubt. Only rightness. 

(If Merle had been here, even as a voice in his mind, he was sure his brother would have plenty to say. He’d always had plenty to say, about everything, but especially about his baby brother and his sexual proclivities-- or rather, his lack there of. How many times had Merle questioned his manhood with crude remarks about how his dick was floppier than a dead fish and nothin’ could get it up? Merle would sure as shit have something to say now, about Daryl lying here kissing a woman so sweet he’d have preferred her to any kinda candy, the curve of her breast pressed to his palm, his cock thick and hard in a way he’d never felt in his life, a way that made the blood pound in his ears and his head spin. But Merle wasn’t here, and more importantly, his voice had no place here. Daryl was so consumed by the taste and feel of her, that there was no way in hell Merle’s voice- or anyone’s, for that matter- was getting into his head.)

Instead he got lost in Beth, stretched out beneath him. Every time he would gently caress and squeeze her breast she would arch up, and he wasn’t sure what felt better- the sensation of her nipple tightening to press pertly against his palm, or the firmness of her hips against him where he was so impossibly hard, straining not only against his jeans now but against _her_ , in a way he’d never experienced before this.

Daryl couldn’t help but groan against her lips and loose a growl that rumbled through his chest. He was surrounded by her-- the warmth of her against his body, the scent of her in the air, the taste of her on his tongue, the sound of her soft breathy moans filling his ears. And he was filled with her, too; his heart beat to the rhythm of _Beth, Beth, Beth_ , sending it pulsing through his body where it thrummed in his palm right above the curve of her breast and echoed in the pulse points beneath his ears and throbbed, _god_ did it throb, where his hard cock pressed to the fly of his pants. 

“ _Beth_ ,” he whispered against her soft lips, breathless from their kisses but wanting nothing to do with pulling away from her.

“ _Daryl_ ,” she murmured back, reaching up to curl her fingers into his hair as she tipped her face forward against his own so their foreheads met. Her fingers curled through the dark tendrils of his hair, and her back curved for him again, curved up like the bow she had left propped against the nearby wall. As he looked down at her, Daryl let his hand slip away from one breast to trail across the valley between and cup the other. More sure now of the touch that would pull those breathy sounds from her lips, he caressed her, cupping and squeezing until he felt the telltale press of her pert nipple against his palm.

Despite the way he ached to kiss her, he couldn’t seem to break his gaze from her face long enough to do so. Instead he watched, studying the pleasure and awe that washed across her face as he cupped the side of her breast and brushed his thumb across her sensitive nipple, teasing the pert bud through the thin fabric of her bra until her soft moan turned to a whine, low in her throat.

_He wanted her._ It hit him, though not suddenly. It wasn’t a jolting, unexpected thought, but something than came upon him far more slowly. As if it had been dawning since his hand had first slid up under her shirt, or… no, it had been longer than that. As if it had been rising like the incoming tide since held her close out in the church, or since his lips had first pressed to her own in that sunlight barn… or perhaps even since that night in the candlelit funeral home when he’d looked into her eyes and found himself unable to say the words she’d asked to hear. _You, you, you._

He wanted her. But he knew in that same moment that he also wasn’t ready.That perhaps neither of them was, not just yet. But they were getting there, slowly but surely. If the tide was rising then perhaps they were both riding it in together, curled up in the same small boat, riding the wave of it side-by-side. Soon. Not now, but soon.

Beneath him, Beth’s head turned and she brushed her lips across the line of his jaw, pulling him from his thoughts and summoning a low groan from deep within him. It rumbled in his chest and against hers where she was pressed against him, and to his surprise he heard Beth softly giggle in response. 

It was incongruous and yet not, at the same time. It didn’t break the mood but simply accented it, changing things, but not drastically. It was… it was like finding that the path had curved in a new direction, rather than finding that you’d unexpectedly come to a dead end. 

With his hand still gently cupping her breast, he teased, “Somethin’ funny?”

“No.” She giggled. “Maybe?” Her nose grazed just beneath his jaw and a second later she kissed him there too, trailing her lips down over the hint of stubble beneath his chin. “I’m just happy, that’s all. I’m just… _so happy_.”

With one last gentle caress, Daryl slipped his hand down, following the dip of her waist as it trailed into the curve of her hip. He rolled onto his side and brought her with him, her leg still wedged between his own and their hips still nearly flush as they lay on their sides facing one another, and he said simply, “Yeah.” As her fingers trailed off his chest, and he drank in the sight of her darkened eyes and her soft, swollen lips, that same feeling tugged faintly at the corners of his lips, and he let it spread into a smile as he added in a murmur, “Me too.” 

He didn’t think he had ever been so happy in his long, messed up, miserable life. Until her.

* * *

They had slept close together before, with her face tucked against his shoulder or neck or even side-by-side so they woke sharing breaths between their parted lips. Once she had even woken up half on top of him, that night spent in the van during the rain storm where she’d stipped down from her rain-soaked clothing. But Beth didn’t think they had ever woken up quite like this before. 

As the warm air and the glint of the rising sun through the window drew her habitually out of sleep, Beth awoke to the warmth of Daryl’s body behind her. Last night they had gone to sleep facing each other, laying on a blanket on the floor of the back room of the church. But somehow in the middle of the night she seemed to have rolled over, and Daryl had shifted close to accomodate the change. His chest was fitted to her back now, the bend of his knees was pressed into the curve of her own, and his arm was slung over her waist so that his hand could press almost possessively to the upper part of the flat of her stomach. 

Feeling the weight of his hand there, Beth couldn’t help but hazily remember where that same hand had been last night, slipping up under her shirt to cup and caress her breast with nothing but the thin fabric of her bra between them. Remembering it now had her humming, stretching a bit in place and pressing back against him in a way that made her suddenly acutely aware of something else about the way they were pressed together. Something so firmly noticeable that she was surprised it had taken her this long to register it. It wasn’t the first time she’d felt it, after all. Last night, the sign of his arousal had been pressed against her thigh, but now it was against the curve of her butt that she felt him, hard and erect in his sleep and nudging against her. 

A few weeks ago, she might have shied away in embarrassment, or gotten all flustered at the feeling of him pressed against her like _that_. A few weeks ago, the open acknowledgment of the desire he might feel for her- and that she in turn felt for him- would have been something they both pointedly ignored, no matter that on some level they knew they felt it. But not now. Now it only felt… natural. Well, it felt like plenty of other things too, things that had her a bit warm and flushed as she lay there with his hand splayed against her belly. But mostly it just felt perfectly natural, waking up lying here like this with him, his chest warm at her back and his breath ghosting against her hair and his cock, urgently- but unconsciously- pressed against her as he slept. 

It had felt just as natural last night, too. To be lying under him with his lips parting against hers, arching her body up into his touch as his work-roughened hand slid up over her skin to gently cup her breast. As she lay there dozing in and out of sleep, Beth was dimly aware that a younger version of her- even one from just a month or so ago- would perhaps have found it impossible to wrap her mind around this; her, lying pressed back again Daryl with his arm wrapped snugly around her.

She was also aware that the her from a month or more ago could not possibly have imagined how everything she would go through might lead up to this. Because in truth, it wasn’t simply a series of events. It wasn’t just: _this happened, and then this happened, and now Daryl and I are lying here together, entwined in a square of sunshine in the back room of a church._ It was so much more than that, so impossible to grasp because it was so complex and yet every moment of it had seemed as completely natural as it did lying here right now

This moment, laying here with Daryl’s breath stirring the tendrils of her hair and his hand meeting the rise and fall of her stomach and chest with her breaths… it was so simple a moment and yet at the same time built on a complicated and many-layered foundation. Which really, was a summary of them as a whole, if she thought about it. They were this moment, this patch of sunlight and this innocent natural embrace. But they were also a candlelit moment in a funeral home, entwined hands in front of a tombstone, strong arms carrying the other injured through the woods. They were arms wrapped around the other from behind at both a rundown shack and deep in the woods away from the edge of the train tracks. They were a soft kiss in a sunlit barn, fingers upraised against a roaring flame, two people at their brink screaming at each other and refusing to give up their ground, a pair curled together by a fire sharing a book.

They were a quiet and coddled young girl who had almost given up on life, and a lost, abandoned, abused boy who had never known affection or love, who had wandered until the world ended. They were a stronger, more confident woman, who had learned to fight and defend herself, and a man who had found his purpose after everything else had been destroyed, a man who had learned to hope and believe.

They were all those things at once, past and present, and together they were something else entirely. Something newer, something stronger, something natural and right and good. And all that they had been, all that they had become, it led to this little moment, to the two of them curled up like cats in a patch of sunshine together. 

Beth wondered if she were romanticizing it all in her sleep-hazy mind. Surely she was thinking in a way tinged with the haze of dreams, her mind rambling in the way most people’s seemed to when they were half-asleep, when the world seemed immense and thoughts were given free-reign to roam all of it without guidance. But despite the haziness of her mind, despite the way the thoughts in her head sounded sort of like the lyrics and poems she used to scribble in her journal, they were no less real. _This_ was no less real.

This right here- the warmth of the sun on her side and Daryl’s hand brushing just slightly up her belly as he stirred behind her- it was so very real, so simple, so perfect. But she didn’t have too long to relish it alone. It was the soft hum by her ear that clued Beth in to the fact that he was waking up as well. She knew that as comfortable as she was right now and as little as she minded the feeling of him hard against the curve of her ass, Daryl might not feel the same way. He might worry that he was making her uncomfortable, or feel uncomfortable himself, and that was the last thing she wanted.

So as he began to wake up, Beth turned slowly in his arms to face him. The movement meant they were no longer pressed so snugly together, but with her thigh tucked between his and her face coming to rest against his warm chest through his shirt, the intimacy of the moment remained. Thankfully it didn’t fade when he began to wake up further, making grumbly morning sounds that she had long since become accustomed to from him.

“Mornin’,” she murmured into the crook of his neck as she felt his hand pause and then brush up her back. Drawing back, she met his gaze just in time to see his eyes flutter open, and the first glimpse of his slightly-hazy, dark blue eyes made her breath hitch in her throat.

Again, it wasn’t that they hadn’t woken up together before. They had, and several of those moments had felt very meaningful without a doubt, but this… this was without a doubt a new level of intimacy. Beth watched the shifting of Daryl’s expression as he woke up; his eyes clearing, a brief furrow dipping into his brow and smoothing out as he gave a slight yawn. When his eyes fixed on her just scant inches from him, he reached out slowly and hesitantly, and there was a look on his face that made her wonder if he thought he was dreaming somehow. But then his fingers grazed her cheek to tuck back a stray curl of hair and she watched in awe and sleepy delight as that dreamy uncertainty cleared and a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

She had always loved waking up on the farm with the sound of the roosters crowing and the scent of coffee and home-cooked breakfast filling the air as she snuggled up under the warm covers of her childhood bed. But as much as she had loved that, it didn’t hold a candle to this. 

“G’mornin’,” Daryl finally murmured back, his voice even lower and rougher with sleep. As she looked at him, a faint smile on her own lips as she drank in the sight of him, she had to wonder if anyone had ever seen him like this. If anyone has been this close to him, close enough to see the dreamy haze fade from his eyes, close enough to feel his breath ghosting faintly over their skin, to hear his sleep-roughened voice so close to their ear. She didn’t think so, and that only made the moment feel more important to her. Another simple moment placed on top of the complex layers of events and occurrences that had lead them right here. 

Both of them seemed content to lay there a few minutes longer, her hands curled at his chest and his pressed to her back, until finally they reluctantly gave in to the knowledge of the rising sun outside their window. In the shift of her body she brushed her nose lightly against his and then with a sigh they moved seemingly as one, pulling apart to sit up on the floor and stretch almost in unison, their arms reaching up above their heads.

Even though they had separated, Beth was pleased to realize that the intimacy between them still remained. She felt it in the weight of his gaze lingering on her while she stretched, and in the brush of his arm against hers when he moved past her towards his back, and she felt it in the minutes that followed, as they fell so easily into their morning routines. Get up, clean up, check their surroundings, relieve themselves, come back in for breakfast… By now everything they did was habitual, a pattern formed over weeks of it being just the two of them. It was a routine they’d long since perfected, but now more than ever they seemed constantly aware of each other through every movement they made, in a way that wasn’t purposeful or pointed, but casual and easy. As if he was a magnet for her gaze and her touch, and she the same for him.

Beth couldn’t seem to stop looking at him, and smiling every time his eyes met hers. Even the thought that Maggie would have teased her for turning into some flustered, distracted teenager couldn’t ruin the good mood that filled Beth that morning, and for that, she was even more grateful. Her heart still ached at the thought of her sister, but she was realizing that this connection she had with Daryl- this thing between them, whatever it might have been- was a balm that was slowly but surely helping her heal.

She couldn’t help but wonder if she was doing the same for him, though she knew it wasn’t the sort of thing she could- or would- ask him straight out. Daryl Dixon was a man of relatively few words, after all, and little of them tended to be spent on how he was _feeling_ , of all things. So instead Beth simply watched him, as she had always been so good at watching him- not just looking, but _seeing_. Seeing the quiet ease with which he moved, and the lack of tension that had once filled his lean body. Seeing the way he sat down so casually beside her, passing the can of beans back and forth between them without a word, in a silence that was far from sullen or awkward . Seeing the way a little smile would briefly cross his lips when their hands touched, or the way he seemed so completely at ease sitting next to her with his thigh pressed to her own. 

Beth saw the ways in which he had changed, subtly but surely, so that he no longer looked so burdened, or lonely, or pensive and unhappy. She saw how he had _opened up_ and knew, deep down inside, that it was true. She had been just as much of a balm for him as he had been for her. 

As she handed the can back to him and felt her own lips turn up in a smile at the light brush of his hand against her own, the knowledge of what they were for each other filtered through her mind along with the sleep-hazy thoughts this morning, and she couldn’t help but connect the two of them together. They _were_ something else entirely new now, something right and good, something stronger… and it was all because of each other. Because of what they were, both _to_ one another and together.

And this- whatever it was that they were together, whatever it was that they shared now- it was just… good. Daryl was sitting across from her with a smile on his lips that matched the one on her own, and the warmth of the sun shining on them through the window couldn’t quite compare to the warmth of his thigh lightly resting against hers, and though the day stretched out ahead of them she was content to just enjoy this moment with him… and _they_ were just _good_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a very intimate sort of chapter, more of a Bethyl-focused one than some others. The next chapter they'll be moving on a bit plot-wise, but I figured after the end of the last chapter, you guys deserved a little heat. I hope you enjoyed this, and please please please comment, it always makes my day! Thanks for reading!


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leaving the church behind, Beth and Daryl set out through the woods, on their way to a town from Daryl's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am truly sorry for the delay on this update. I've been going through a rough patch lately when it comes to both my mental health, and my writer's block; both of which seem to be annoyingly wrapped up in each other. Of course that also only means I've got all kinds of self doubt when it comes to this chapter, so I hope it doesn't disappoint, especially the first half which I think is lacking in comparison to the first. But hey, I'm updating, right? And I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Though speaking of enjoying, if you're not already reading it, you should all go check out [Fall Right In](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3275168/chapters/7143974), by [Abelina](http://archiveofourown.org/users/abelina/works), which is Chasing Car's "sister fic" as we like to call them. It's an incredible and beautifully written Alone-divergence fic that I know you'll all love, if you enjoy my fic even slightly.

It was undeniable, really. There was just _something_ about Daryl’s hands. Big, firm, roughened by the life he had lead even before all of this… and lord, did they feel good on her skin. The way that hint of roughness in his palm that seemed to create friction against her smooth skin, building up a heat that fizzled under her skin even when he simply ran his hand under her arm, or across her side...

And it had been something else entirely when that hand had been cupping the soft curve of her breast. Even with the thin worn cotton of her bra between them she had felt it; that warmth, that hint of roughness, the way the fabric of her bra caught just slightly against his hand. It made it easy to imagine just what his palm might feel like there with nothing between them, how the roughness might tease her sensitive breast, might coax her nipples into hardening, might create a little shiver of warmth and pleasure that would go through her if he grazed the pad of his thumb just across the pert bud and…

“Beth. Hello? Earth t’ Beth. Y’ in there, girl?” 

Slowly but surely Daryl’s gruff, low voice penetrated Beth’s dazed and hazy mind, pulling her from the heated thoughts that consumed her and drawing her back to the real world. Granted it was still hot here, but the warmth of a Georgia autumn still clinging to summer wasn’t exactly the kinda warmth she’d been feeling when she’d gotten caught up in thinking about Daryl’s hands.

Reality had intruded however, and the more aware she became of her surroundings, the more embarrassed Beth became. She was crouched on the ground in the middle of the woods, hands pressed to her jean-clad knees, peering down at a rough map that Daryl had scratched into the dirt. Or at least, she was _supposed_ to be peering down at said map. Instead she’d gotten distracted watching his hands; the way his fingers curled around the stick he was using, the way they clenched as he dragged it through the dirt to form the shapes on the ground, making the muscles in his arms flex…

A hint of a flush stained her cheeks as she realized she was about to get distracted again. Blinking up at him, Beth cleared her throat and murmured, “Yeah, I’m here. Sorry. I got, umm… distracted.”

“Yeah,” he remarked, the tilt of his lips into a hint of a smirk unexpectedly making something in her stomach flutter as her cheeks flushed a little warmer. “I noticed.”

 _Lord_. She wanted to believe he didn’t know just why or how she’d gotten distracted, but she wasn’t naive and neither was he. Beth was well aware of how observant Daryl was, after all. There was no doubt he’d noticed the straying of her gaze, the way they’d followed the path of his hands until her gaze went all hazy. There was similarly no doubt that he could have imagined the sort of connections her mind might have made, the memories twining through her thoughts, darkening her eyes and flushing her cheeks.

Well, there wasn’t much to be done about it now. Except to meet his gaze as firmly as she could, a hint of a smile playing across her own lips when she saw the smile on his. It wasn’t like he seemed mad, after all, that she’d been staring at him. If anything he only seemed amused, and Beth was never one to complain when Daryl looked amused. Heck, nevermind his hands, there was something about the way Daryl Dixon looked when he was smiling- even just a little- that did something to her, too. Something all pleasant and fluttery and warm and...

But now really wasn’t the time to think about the things Daryl Dixon did to her. Now was the time to think about… what was it again? 

Beth glanced up at Daryl to see his eyebrow raise, his arm slowly lifting as his hand gestured pointedly at the ground. The amusement was even more prominent in his expression now, and she blushed again as she cleared her throat and looked down at the dirt in front of her. Right. The map. The map of where they were, where they had been, and where they were going.

Readjusting to peer down at it, Beth asked, “Okay so we’re…”

“Here.” Daryl crouched down on his haunches, draping one arm loosely over his knee as the other reached out with the other to point with the stick to a spot on the dirt map. “Reckon we’re somewhere near’bouts Macon, or so.”

“Okay. And the town where your bike was…”

“To the east,” he grunted, shifting the stick to point to another spot to her right. “Here. Thomson, Georgia. Reckon it’s about…” He squinted his eyes down at the dirt scratched map as if he were visualizing the topography perhaps, or a real map instead. “Little over 80 miles. Maybe closer to 90, if we ain’t followin’ the main roads. ‘Bout a two hour drive, if we had a car anyway.” 

“And if we walk it?” 

At Beth’s question, Daryl shifted on his haunches and brought the stick up, curling his fingers around it and propping the butt of it in the dirt so he could lean against it like a cane for a moment. “Maybe two days or so. Ain’t too bad.” He paused and gave her a faint twist of a smile. “Nothin’ compared t’ walking up to D.C.” 

“True.” She leaned forward briefly onto her toes, rocking on her haunches as she hummed to herself and examined the little Georgia map he’d drawn in the dirt. Now that she studied it without her thoughts getting carried away, the shape of it became clearer, and she reached out with her finger to draw a circle up above the mark for where they currently were. “Atlanta would be right about here, right?”

“Mm.” His free hand came up to scratch at his beard thoughtfully as his gaze lingered on the spot she drew. “Would avoid that anyway, even if we didn’t have t’ go East first. Last time w- I was there, it was overrun.”

She knew instinctively what he’d stopped himself from saying. _We_. Last time we were there-- him, Rick, their family. Or at least, who the family had been before they’d ever even come to her family’s farm. Lori, T-dog, Dale, Carol, Rick… Beth’s stomach lurched and her heart gave a little clenching ache, and it was all she could do to bite back a sad little sigh. Sorrow wouldn’t help either of them right now, especially not Daryl.

“Last time I went, it was fine.” She paused just long enough for him to see the smile tugging at her lips, and remarked, “Granted, I was about ten. Though come to think of it, there _were_ some odd lookin’ people around even then…”

“That’s cities for y’,” he remarked, his voice low but his faint chuckle indicating she’d averted the painful topic successfully. 

Relieved, Beth reached out again to the dusty dirt ground, and dragged her finger through up to make a line. “So we go east, get your bike hopefully and then-” Her finger twisted, drawing a line upwards now, “Straight up North first, right?”

“Mmm, ‘ccording to that map from the church, we should head up to Anderson, South Carolina or so. Then we’ll be back on path.”

“On their path.” She looked up at him, settling both her forearms back onto her knees even as a furrow set itself faintly into her brow. “If they’re still on it.” 

“If they’re still on it,” he agreed, his gaze holding hers for a long moment. She could see the same worry hidden in the blue of his eyes that she knew was probably reflected in her own. _If, if, if_. This whole thing, this whole plan of theirs, it was full of ifs. Maybe too many ifs.

 _If_ his bike was still there.  
_If_ it was still running.  
_If_ they could make their way back to the right path.  
_If_ their family was still following it.  
_If_ nothing could go wrong or did go wrong or would go wrong.  
_If, if, if_.

But what was the world they were living in now, if not just a bunch of, well, ifs? If we survive, one more day, if we make it, if nothing goes wrong.

Might as well chase the ‘ifs’ that could lead them to something good, in the end. Might as well follow the big ‘if’ that was their long-lost family. 

It was their driving motivation these days, second only to their desire to keep each other safe, and stick together. And it _was_ second to that, no doubt, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still a driving factor. After all, it was what had caused them to leave that map behind, along with the note it contained. Daryl and Beth both had looked it over, memorizing the path it followed; Daryl in his mind, of course, while Beth scribbled down the names of towns along the way on the inside cover of one of her books. But after that they’d left it behind, in silent agreement that it might be needed by the very woman who it had originally been intended for.

 _Carol_. After all, their hope for their family and their desire to find them, it all extended to her, too. How could it not?

Pulled from her thoughts again, Beth looked over at Daryl, who had broken their shared gaze to peer down at the ground. “Let’s just hope the road ain’t too bad on the way there. Especially gettin’ into South Carolina.” 

“Why there?”

“The way we’re goin’, we’ll be headin’ right over the Savannah River.” He rose to his feet slowly, curling his fingers around the strap of his crossbow as he tossed the stick off to the side and into the brush. Flashing her a smirk, he added, “Better hope th’ bridge is still standin’. Ain’t no bike I know of that can swim a good stream, let alone a river.” 

“And here I figured a bike that belonged to Daryl Dixon could do just about anything,” Beth joked right back at him, a smile flashing across her lips as she rose to her feet to join him. After scuffing out the map in the dirt with her foot, she adjusted the straps of her bag and bow with her good hand, keeping her still-sore wrist tucked against her stomach as she strode out beside him through the woods that paralleled the road they would follow in the direction of Thomson.  
Neither of them lead the way down the path, instead they walked side-by-side at an even pace, backpacks and bows slung across their backs, jostling in unison along with their firm strides as they moved almost silently through the woods. After a few moments of walking accented by the chirping of birds in the trees above and the rustle of leaves in the late-morning breeze, Beth broke the silence to ask, “So… if you were in Thomson before all this… how’d you end up near Atlanta? That’s where the group was originally, right? When you first all met up?” 

To the last question he gave an ‘mm’ and a nod of agreement. The first question, however, took a few moments more of silence before he gave a faint shrug and replied, “Plan was to head North. I had th’ truck, Merle had his bike. We were gonna get up into the mountains. Both of us knew how t’ track, how t’ hunt. Reckoned it’d be safer. Would have been, probably only we didn’t count on all th’ traffic. Got stalled tryin’ t’ get up there, ended up outside of Atlanta. Came on th’ others trying t’ fight their way out of the city and got out with ‘em.” 

“And that was that?” 

“Somethin’ like that. Well. ‘Cept Merle wanted t’ rob ‘em all and run.” 

With her gaze on him, Beth saw the way he darted a glance at her, as if he were expecting her to judge him or something, even after all this time. But instead she just gave a faint smile and a hum of her own, and remarked lightly, “Sounds about right for Merle, I guess…” 

He chuckled at that, the laughter rumbling in his chest as he guided them around the trunk of a tree in their path.“Then he got left on that roof in Atlanta-” His expression sobered faintly, and the lightness in his voice faltered. “An’ I guess that was that, from there anyway. Y’ pretty much know the rest.” 

She did. Just as well as she knew that look in his eyes; that sober hint of sorrow, a distant glint of _what if_. What if Merle hadn’t gotten chained to that roof, what if he hadn’t cut his hand off to get away, what if he’d lived... where would Daryl be now?

Her own thoughts were tempted to run down that same path, but Beth cut herself off, because she knew. Knew she wouldn’t like it, knew thoughts like that would only lead her to wonder if he and she would ever be here right now, if that- or anything else in their pasts- had been changed.

That was a thing she didn’t want to consider, because it didn’t matter anymore. They were here now, because of everything that had come before that they couldn’t change, and in the end, she was more than happy with that. More than happy to walk side-by-side with him, through the woods, heading towards a distant city that was the future and the past all at the same time.

His past, of course. But their future. Together. Wherever this path they were on was going to lead, Beth knew in her gut and her heart that they would meet it together.

* * *

Midway through the day, with a few of their water bottles getting low, Daryl began to steer them in the direction of what he hoped would be a suitable water source. The game trail they followed seemed promising, even more so when they spotted a thicker line of trees in the distance. Originally he thought the first faint hint of babbling water might lead to a stream, or maybe a brook. In the end he wasn’t wrong about that, at least not entirely. It _was_ a stream of water that they came up alongside at the end, however it was the true source of the sudden rise in the volume of running water up ahead that had both of them coming to a stop in surprise. 

Up ahead, surrounded by tall trees and a set into a sharply sloping rocky hill, was a waterfall. The water poured down from the rocky outcrop at the top, spilling over the water-smoothed stones and down the flat face into a pool below, which funnelled towards them to form the stream they now stood beside. The waterfall was gorgeous, without a doubt, accented as it was by the glint of sunlight on the water, the slightly reddening foliage surrounding it, and the swooping shadow of a bird fluttering across it to alight on the branch of a tree. 

But the waterfall itself only held his gaze for a few moments.

What truly had Daryl mesmerized was the sight of Beth beside him, her eyes wide, her whole face lighting up at the waterfall before them. “Daryl,” she breathed out without pulling her gaze from the scene, “Oh, it’s _beautiful_.” 

He bit back the cheesy, trite reply that very nearly slipped from his lips, though he couldn’t stop himself from thinking it anyway. Couldn’t stop himself from thinking about just what was _truly_ beautiful as he watched her, drinking in the sight of her, her prettiness only enhanced by the delight that played across her face. 

What finally dragged him out of that haze was the way she turned to him, fixing her bright blue gaze on him just long enough for him to spot the hint of mischief echoed in her voice as she exhaled in a breathy voice, “We should go for a _swim_.” 

Daryl’s eyebrow raised almost instantly, mirth tugging at one corner of his lips as he silently asked: _What_?

“Come on!” Beth grinned, tipping her head in a way that had her ponytail spilling down her shoulder in a mirror of the fall of water beyond. “How long has it been since we’d gotten to even wash _off_ , let alone actually fully submerse ourselves in water?” Before she even finished speaking she was reaching for him, fingers curling around his arm to tug him determinedly towards the bank of the waterfall’s pool. “Let’s live a little! I mean, just imagine how amazing it will feel!” With a grin and a little breathy laugh, she teased, “I mean I know you like bein’ all dirty, Daryl, but even you can’t deny it’d be nice to cool off and clean up a _little_ , right?”

Maybe she had him there, although he bristled at the mention of his own cleanliness, or rather his lack thereof. He wasn’t _that_ bad… was he? 

Not that it mattered. His brain instantly launched into a litany of reasons why they couldn’t- or shouldn’t- dive into that pool. It wasn’t safe, for one, at least not without one of them standing watch. Walkers could come by while they were swimming, trapping them in the water, exposed and vulnerable. On top of that, neither of them knew what was in that pond; what if it had snapping turtles, or somethin’? And besides, even if he decided to forgo safety… he knew the kinda clean she meant, the kinda ‘full submersion’ she had in mind. It would involve him stipping off his own shirt, and there weren’t no way in hell he was gonna let her see what was hidden under his shirt. There was no way he could bear the sight of those blue eyes darkening and going gray at the first glimpse of the old wounds that slashed across his back...

But even as he stood there running through excuse after excuse in his mind, Beth kept moving, and the racing of his mind stuttered to a stop as she stood at the edge of the water, set down her bow and her bag, and toed off her boots. When she reached down to strip off her shirt and toss it to the ground, he felt the excuses begin to slip from his mind, as if the same fingers that had curled into her tank top to strip it off had also tightly gripped the thoughts in his mind and tugged to pull them free, tossing them out the window to leave them discarded on the ground; forgotten. 

By the time she reached down to unbutton her pants and slip them down her hips to reveal the pale, worn blue fabric of her panties, there wasn’t a single thought in Daryl’s mind besides _Beth_ and maybe also: _Yes_. 

His fingers clenched reflexively around the strap of his crossbow, and as she took a step towards the edge of the water, he grunted out without thinking, “Beth…” 

But she just turned, looking over her shoulder at him with a twist of her body that revealed the gentle swell of her breast beneath the thin fabric of her bra. The sight of her was enough to make the tips of his ears burn as she remarked lowly, “Come on, Daryl. We should _live_ a little.” 

For once, he didn’t argue. He didn’t let the excuses rush through his mind again. He felt instead like he had that night on the porch when she’d looked at him, eyes moonshine bright, and breathed up at him with a grin and a giggle: _We should burn it down_. His physical eyes watched as she took one step and then another into the cool forest water, but in his mind’s eye he saw her lit up with laughter tossing moonshine around that grimy cabin, and later, lit up by the crackling fire as she lifted her hand to thrust her middle finger up into the sky.

If all of that had, in essence, lead them right to this moment, then how could he say no to her when it came to this now? No, he couldn’t. And he realized as he stood there, that he had no desire to. 

With one slow look around the clearing to make sure there wasn’t a walker in sight, Daryl set his crossbow down on the ground, making sure it was in reach of the edge of the pool of water. Trying not to stumble (a hard task when he couldn’t fully manage to tear his gaze away from her pale body submerging inch by inch into the pool), he toed off his own shoes, and slipped off his vest, following it with his long-sleeved shirt. Leaving on only the sleeveless undershirt he wore beneath them, Daryl’s hands fumbled at the waistband of his pants for just a moment before he got them undone and let them fall to the ground. 

For a moment he felt exposed standing there in nothing but a ratty, hole-spotted undershirt and his worn and sagging black boxer-briefs. His skin rippled with goosepimples in the breeze, and he felt acutely aware of the gangliness of his hairy legs. Then Beth, standing up to her waist in the water, turned to face him and he was struck nearly dumb yet again.

The sun above glinted on the surface of the water, reflecting on the ripples that surrounded her like a water-nymph’s skirt. Her long hair, coming undone from its ponytail, fanned around her shoulders; so long now that the ends of it dipped into the water at her back. She held her bandaged wrist close to her chest, snug between the twin curves of her breasts where they were encased in the same bra that he’d felt under his palm last night when he’d caressed her into soft breathy moans.

“Daryl!” She exclaimed, tipping back her head in a sweet laugh that had him stepping forward even before she went on, “What are you waiting for? The water is incredible!”

It wasn’t the only thing that was incredible. Hell, the view wasn’t so damn bad either. But there was another danger inherent in standing here watching her like this, barely dressed as he was; the kind of thing that would be much easier to hide if he was waist-deep in water. 

So with a hum and a wave of his hand- _calm down, girl!_ \- he stepped foot by foot into the cool water, stopping only when it reached his waist.

Beth waded towards him, lips curved into a smile as she exclaimed, “Isn’t it perfect?” At his hum in reply, her gaze shifted down to her bandaged wrist. Brow furrowed, she asked, “It probably doesn’t matter if I get this wet, right?” She glanced up at him, answering herself before he could respond, “I mean it’s not a cast, it’s just a bandage. It’ll dry. Besides-” She looked longingly down at the water, and added with a sigh, “I _really_ wanna just dive under…”

“Go for it,” he remarked gruffly, but with a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Ain’t gonna stop you.” Maybe if her wrist were more sensitive still, but it had been weeks since she’d injured it and it was well on it’s way to healing. Plus she was right; it would dry, just like her underwear and his shirt would. 

Of course, there was another benefit to agreeing with her right now, namely the sight of Beth diving down under the water, and the glimpse of her pale skinned body fluttering beneath the shiny surface. It lasted only a few moments before she rose up, water running in rivulets down the slender curves of her body as she slicked back her wet hair and flashed him a grin. “Okay that was amazing. You have to try it.” 

“‘m just fine,” he grunted, eyeing her as she took a step towards him with a mischievous light in her eyes he didn’t quite trust. 

“Oh c’mon, Daryl! Dive in, really feel the water!” She tread another step closer, moving deeper into the water with him until it rose up to cover her navel and then creep higher. “I mean, if you don’t… I could always splash you instead…”

“Beth…”

Judging by the mirth in her eyes and the playful expression on her face, Beth didn’t seem inclined to mind the warning in his voice. Her hands skimmed over the surface of the water as she watched him, eyebrows raised, still coming slowly towards him as she teased back, “ _Daryl_...”

“You do that-’ He pointed to her hands, “-you ain’t gonna get away with it, Greene.”

“Oh yeah?” Eyes wide with innocence, her fingers skimmed hard enough over the water to make faint splashing sounds that time as she went on, “Is that so?”

“Y’ know it is…” He took a step back, watching as she drew back her hand, and exhaling in a half-growl, half-laugh, “ _Beth_...” 

He didn’t manage to get another word out before she brough her hand forward, scooping up water and splashing it in his direction with a giggle and a bright and playful, “C’mon, Dixon. Don’t turn chicken on me, now!”

“That’s it-” He growled as she splashed him again, raising his forearm to block his face as he shook droplets from his shaggy hair. “You’re gonna get it now, Greene!”

“I’d like to see you try, Dixon!” But her words turned into a squeal the moment he lunged towards her, scooping her quickly up into his arms. “Daryl!!” 

With a growl that rumbled in his chest he slung her over his shoulder, holding her tightly with one arm wrapped beneath her underwear-clad ass, feeling her wet hair tangling against his back as he turned and began to stride deeper and deeper into the pool of water.

“Daryl!” She squealed, her mock-annoyance ruined by the laughter in her voice as she pretended to push at his back through his damp shirt. “Put me down! Where are you going!”

“Said y’ weren’t gonna get away with it, didn’t I?” Despite the gruffness of his voice there was a smirk on his lips, and as the pool deepened he made sure to shift her up a bit on his shoulder so that her head stayed above the chest-high water as they neared the waterfall, which grew louder with each step he took, echoing in his ears now as it splashed just a few feet away.

He felt her head lift behind him, and he knew the moment she spotted the fall of water so close, because as soon as she did she squealed, “ _Daryl Dixon, don’t you dare_!”

But before the last word even left her lips he was stepping right under the spray, dunking her upper body in the shower of water that managed to soak him nearly as much. ‘Punishment’ it might have been, but he wasn’t really trying to be cruel, wasn’t holding her under there with any sort of menace. The roar of the water was accented by both their laughter as he pulled her back over his shoulder, feeling the front of her body sliding down against his own, first her hips, then her stomach, and then her breasts brushing over his chest, until she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and met his gaze. Chest to chest he held her, keeping her close as he stepped back just enough so that they were _both_ fully under the spray of water. 

Now they tipped their heads back in unison into the water, and her joyous laughter echoed around them as they stood beneath the waterfall, letting it run over them in heavy, soaking rivulets. It was the first shower either of them’d had since the prison and he had to admit that standing here in the water with Beth’s nearly-naked body pressed to his, her arms holding him tight and her laughter all around him… well, it was far better than any quick, lonely shower within the prison’s walls. 

And that was even before she tipped her head down, looked into his eyes for a long moment, and then rose up on her toes to press her lips softly and sweetly to his own. They kissed like that for what felt like hours but was probably more like a few minutes; just the two of them standing under the waterfall, kissing as water showered down onto them and washed in little streams down their cheeks and even between their lips every time they broke to catch their breath.

Eventually, albeit somewhat reluctantly, they moved out of the spray and back into the pool, both of them diving deep and taking the opportunity to wash the grime and dirt and sweat from their skin, as best they could anyway. It was still afternoon when they climbed out of the water and fell onto the sun-warmed grass, stretching out side-by-side together. When he looked over at her, long legs stretched out and blonde hair fanned out above her head, it was almost too much. It was as if the sight of her endless pale skin was blinding, not for its whiteness but for the beauty of it; so smooth and soft and perfect that it hit him like a sweet stab to his heart, making his eyes ache. 

But rather than turn away, he found himself instinctively moving towards her, or at least turning his head to watch her where she was stretched out on the grass like a cat, soaking up the sun. 

“Don’t say we should get up,” she murmured, stretch her arm up and then resting it over her face, like a pale wing of flesh shading her eyes from the sun.

“Wasn’t gonna,” he remarked lowly, mimicking her movements by shading his eyes with his own arm, though his gaze stayed on her.

“Good,” Beth replied with a satisfied smile, turning beneath the shade of her arm to smile at him. “We should make use of the sun while we can. Get all nice and dry. No one wants to go walking in wet underthings, right?” 

His mmm of agreement caught briefly in his chest, not because he disagreed in any way, but because the mention of wet underthings seemed to draw his gaze instinctively down, over the sharp jut of her collarbones to the soft pale swells of her breasts where they were contained within her bra. The already thin fabric seemed thinner, soaked as it was from their swim. Thin enough to be almost see-through, providing a glimpse of a delicate rosy nipple beneath the fabric that seemed to conjure up a low sound in the back of Daryl’s throat before he could stop it.

She was so beautiful. _Too_ beautiful. It was like he was standing too close to the sun; his eyes ached and his throat was suddenly dry, only it wasn’t crackling flames and molten rock causing it, but the expanse of gorgeous pale skin, a fall of blonde hair, the gentle curve of a breast and that tempting hint of dusky rose beneath the thin, wet fabric. It was too much and yet he couldn’t seem to look away-- didn’t _want_ to, despite thinking that maybe he should. You were never supposed to look at the sun too long, after all, and yet when it came to her he couldn’t seem to help himself.

“My skin feels so nice and cool,” she murmured, her voice breathy and mellow with contentment. “Even with the sun, you know?” Before he could respond- though he did, in fact, know what she meant- Beth reached for him, stretching her arm over her stomach and rolling half onto her side in order to curl her fingers around his wrist and pull his hand back with her. While she fell onto her back again she brought his hand up to rest on her stomach and breathed out, “See?”

He did see. Or rather, he _felt_. He felt the cool of her smooth skin beneath the rough of his palm as his fingers splayed out across her belly, felt the thrum of heat that went through him in response, felt the shiver that fluttered over his skin like a ripple across the surface of the water they had just swam in. The same water that had cooled her skin so perfectly, that had rendered the scant fabric covering her slick and see-through as a result. 

And it seemed as if she saw something too. Beneath the curve of her arm Beth turned to look at him, the shadows falling on the planes of her face and darkening the blue of her eyes as they studied him, seeing the way he watched her, the way his breath hitched and his pulse thrummed a little bit more quickly beneath the spot where his adam’s apple bobbed with his heavy swallow. Maybe she saw more than just what was on the surface. Maybe she dove beneath, just like she’d dived under the shining surface of the water before; maybe she saw his hesitancy as much as his worshipful awe, his deep affection as well as the heat of his desire.

He could only assume she saw something, because whatever it was caused her to move in response. Her body shifted beneath his hand, which slid across her belly to rest on the dip just above her hip as Beth rolled onto her side to face him. Her arm slipped from her face to rest under her head, her cheek pillowed on the curve of it as she shifted closer to him, bare, slick skin sliding somewhat on the grass beneath her. 

When she spoke, she was close enough for him to feel the ghost of her breath across his face as she murmured, “This is one of those moments, you know?”

“Hm?” His fingers traced across the dip of her side, dancing dangerously close to the damp waistband of her panties. 

“You know, those moments. The ones you’ll always remember.” She reached out with her injured arm, water dripping from the bandages as she gently brushed a strand of wet hair away from his face. “The ones that become stories. Like the time I jumped down from the loft of the barn as a dare. The first time I rode a horse. The day I saw you for the first tim, driving up to the farm on your bike. The time I got my foot caught in a bear trap and twisted my ankle.” Her lips twisted mirthfully, but after a second she went on again, softer and lower with each word, “The day you gave me my first ever drink. The night we burned down that shack. The first time we kissed in that barn, and in that abandoned van while the rain poured around us, and in the church with the light shinin’ through the stained glass window…” 

His hand shifted up, fingers grazing over her cheek down, following the curve of it and letting her presence and nearness and sweetness pull the words out of him in a low murmur, “The afternoon we found that waterfall in the middle of the woods and you dared me to go for a swim then splashed me, and got punished for it when I dragged you under the waterfall?” 

There was a husky quality to her voice, but her usual sweet, melodic southern accent deepened to a rough drawl that mimicked his own, just as her words were an echo of a question he’d once asked her, “Ain’t a story if it’s still happenin’, is it?”

With a smile that turned up the corners of his lips, Daryl looked into her eyes and breathed right back, “Of course it is.” His fingers shifted down to graze across the fullness of her lower lip as he added, “Besides…” But the words trailed away and instead he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. 

Though soft at first, the kiss deepened as his hand cupped her cheek and then brushed back to tangle in her long, damp hair. Her lips parted against his and after a moment he felt her tongue, light and playful, darting into his mouth to tease his own. With a groan he leaned in to meet her, rolling onto his side so that he senses were filled not only with the taste of her on his tongue but the warmth of her bare, wet skin against his own.

It wasn’t enough. He needed to _feel_ her. He rolled again but instead of pressing her onto her back he moved onto his own, hands wrapping around her slender body to pull her with him so that she ended up on top. Her legs slotted between his and her arms reached up so her fingers could tangle in his wet hair, in the process stretching out her body on top of him so that he could feel the sharp bones of her hips pressing into his waist, and the softness of her breasts where they molded to his chest. 

“ _Beth_...” He groaned her name as reflexively as his fingers curled against her back; the words were lost between her lips but his touch had her humming in return, fingers twisting into his hair as she pressed herself down on top of him even more firmly.

She tasted like the very sunshine he had named her; no longer blinding him or drying his throat but filling him with warmth and light, as if it radiated from her and through him in turn. His hands brushed up and down over the curve of her warm back, and he kissed her until he was breathless, until his lungs ached as if from the same lack of air he might suffer if he _were_ right up there in space with the brilliant, bright sun. 

But he wasn’t, despite the lightness in his head. He was right here with her in the damp grass, grounded by her weight above him; as real and true as the emotion in her eyes when she broke the kiss with a gasp and looked down at him. 

Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen from their kisses, and the blue of her eyes was something mesmerizing; deeper than the sky, warmer than the petal of a cornflower, and more expressive than anyone he had ever known before her. He could see everything she was feeling, he always could, but it hit him even harder in moments like this because the look in her eyes was almost an exact reflection of what he knew was in his own.

So when she looked down at him with a smile, and breathed out in question, “Besides…?” He just smiled right back at her. 

“Besides,” he murmured back, rolling them over so that she was on her back in the grass now, spread out beneath him and so damn radiant that she made the sun pale in comparison, “Besides, this is one of the best afternoons I’ve ever had.” He kissed her lips, swallowing her breathy giggle of delight as his fingers ghosted over the ticklish spot on her belly, and adding lowly against her mouth, “It’ll make a good story, one day.” 

When she flicked her tongue against his lip with a giggle as sweet as syrup and as bright as a ray of sunlight, he just shook his head and finished with a smirk, “Though maybe the kinda story we keep to ourselves.” 

Which in the end, was perfect as far as he was concerned. After all there was no one else he wanted to share these moments with, except her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can already feel the comments coming with regards to the "lack" of progress when it comes to Beth and Daryl's physical relationship. It's one of the things that makes me feel the most doubtful and unsure when writing this story. But this is, as previously mentioned, a slow burn fic. To me their progress feels natural to how I see them in my mind, especially considering Daryl's near-asexuality. Please, if you love them and/or enjoy this fic, have patience! I promise that they will move ahead with that part of their relationship soon, and in the meantime I hope you enjoy all the other many levels to them! 
> 
> That said, thank you as always for reading this fic. Your enthusiastic comments and thoughts are what keep me going and writing, and I appreciate it so much!


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